


once upon a derp

by raffinit



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Ellie is a tiny little street kid, F/M, Family Feels, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raffinit/pseuds/raffinit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joel and Tess are Joel and Tess. Ellie is 6 years old and maneuvering through the harsh world of Boston's QZ streets without Marlene, the Fireflies, or anyone else, for that matter. On a torrential night, Tess changes that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lapse

**Author's Note:**

> What? You don't wanna think about Ellie as a precocious six year old? Tough titties, she is one here.

They’ve seen her around sometimes; glances down an alley, flickering shadows across the fire by the lean-tos, quick little feet disappearing down another alleyway, or down a little hole in a window. It’s not uncommon to have kids running around in the street - half the time, they belong to no one, have no other place to go but to barter for food and shelter from gruff marketplace dealers or to sprint from angry guards and smugglers, dodging bullets and bricks and knives. 

Tess does what she can for them. She always needs an extra pair of eyes, a little inconspicuous ear when hunting down shipments and debtors. Spare cards or the occasional spare can of beans or corn; it’s not much (but then again, they don’t have much  _ to  _ spare), but it’s enough to watch their little grubby faces light up.

She doesn’t quite understand then, why this particular little girl lingers in the back of her mind.

She’s one of the smaller ones they’ve seen around, too young to be out gallivanting in the streets with those older ruffians; she squints at them sometimes when Tess stares a little too long, and then they see her hop up with some effort over the balcony railing and clamber into an open (broken) window.

"Y'hittin' that time of the month or somethin', Tess?" Joel says, lightly, teasing, but she's known him long enough to understand the weight of his gaze, everything else he'd rather not say - either to avoid her temper or to avoid talking about it at all.

She shrugs. Tonight's dinner is not quite pathetic; canned beans and eggs that they season and eat with wild herbs from the garden they keep outside the wall. She just hates the way Joel stinks up the place after. 

She picks at her plate. "She looked younger than the rest, 's all. Thought that I'd wonder what a kid so little was doin' out with trouble like that."

Joel hums, sighs. She knows that look on his face; he's got eagle eyes too. But he's also got thicker walls built up, she supposes. "'s just another street kid, Tess. 'f she ain't dead yet -" he inclines his head when Tess glares at him. "If she ain't dead yet, I'd reckon she's got a pretty good chance of survivin' the streets. 'sides, way I hear it - soldiers are lookin' to round up the kids; put 'em into the military school."

"She's too young," Tess says. "They can't just pick her up off the streets -"

"Tessa."

She sighs, returns to her half-eaten hobo scrambler. Suddenly she feels nauseous, pushes the plate way.

"'s just a kid, Joel," she murmurs. The apartment is warm, and smells faintly of their dinner and the familiar comforting scents of home, and Tess wonders if that little girl has had a meal lately; if she is bundled up safe and warm from the cold. 

"She's just a little girl."

\-----

The next time she sees the girl is three days down the line, somewhere down an alleyway while she lugs Joel battered and bruised back to their building. It’s only a fragment of a moment, a brief glimpse of this small, curious child, peering through a window at them. Tess heaves Joel higher onto her shoulders, mindful of her own wounds - the goddamn gaping mess of blood in her side, the thing that Joel is currently fumbling to put pressure on. A deal gone south, not the worst, and certainly not the best, but this is just another day in the life for them. 

She guides the man concussed and dizzy as he grips at her waist as if he might collapse and never wake. “Come on, old man,” she murmurs to him, and he mumbles something to her about needing to fix the generator so they can get ice. 

“We’ll worry about that later, Tex.” She pats him gently on the chest, and presses her lips to the side of his head apologetically when he grimaces at the pressure. “Let’s just get you back home in one piece.”

The girl is looking out through one of the apartment windows that’s half shattered from one too many break-ins; Tess had scrounged for any supplies she could when they had first come here, but even then it had been bare inside. There might have been a mattress; a few cabinets ripped from the walls. It’s not a safe place, nor a particularly comfortable one, and Tess’ brow furrows momentarily. She turns back to help Joel down the alley, rest against the wall for a moment. She wants to call out to the girl, even if it’s just to find out her name, but when she looks back to the window no one is there.

They stay in the next few days, just to catch their breaths and be sure that the old man hadn’t concussed himself too bad. She is hesitant when he mentions making the drops alone, but her own wounds need healing, especially the stitches in her side. It’s nothing comparable to the blow Joel had gotten to his head, but with so little meat on her bones, Tess thinks she’d rather not risk tearing her side open again.

“Just be safe, old man,” she tells him, and they take a moment to share a warm, lingering kiss before he pulls the door shut and tells her to lock it behind him.

She watches him go from the window, as she always does, and once her eyes have tracked his fading figure, she sees the grey overhead start to gather. 

Tess likes the rain; it’s one of the only things which brings a reprieve from the usual city smell into something mossier, greener, more calming. She pulls the blanket from its place on the couch and heads out onto the balcony, sinks gingerly into one of the two old cushiony chairs they found on the side of the road. She tucks the blanket over her legs and curls up, feeling rather like an old lady, and she hears the first droplets of rain plinking on the rooftop, which juts out just far enough to cover her.

She hopes Joel is keeping himself warm and dry. Tess leans back into the cushions of the chair and winces at the way her skin tugs and pulls; there’s gauze wrapped tight around her ribs, courtesy of Joel, so it’s not like she’s producing bloodstains at every moment, but she’s a little anxious all the same.

The rain picks up fast, thunders into the air and patters at breakneck speed onto the cracked concrete that forms the courtyard below. The time of day indicates that it’s not just the dark clouds making everything go dim outside, and Tess wraps the blanket around her shoulders, thinks that she should probably head inside; she can barely see through the sheets of blowing, windy rain now, and the number of people outside has dwindled down to zero.

But then she hears a crash. It’s coming from the alley across the way, and Tess peers as best she can down the tunnel of it. One of the trash cans is tipped over, spilling rubbish, and to Tess’ utter shock and dismay, a small form hefts one end of the can up, shakes out the rest of the garbage, and shakes wetly in the alley.

She  _ knows  _ it’s the same girl; she can make out the small messy ponytail and the thin, too-short green hoodie she’d worn.She can make out the way she tries uselessly to tug the hoodie closer around her, some kind of warmth in any form, to pull the hood over her head that only comes halfway over her scalp. The girl glances around, squinting up at the rain and wiping at her eyes with one small arm as she hefts the can up, drags it with some marginal amount of effort towards where she deems it driest, under the ripped and flapping canopy of the apartment building. 

Tess presses closer to the glass now, her breath caught somewhere in her chest as the girl becomes clearer in the deluge, closer now to her building. She watches this little girl tip the can again, the waters that splash out onto the sidewalk before she crawls into the dank space and huddles somewhere deep inside it, festering in layers of rain.

Tess rises, folds the blanket in her arms and looks over the balcony, far enough to feel the rain on her hair before she pulls back. She sees the trash can roll just a little; and then there’s a clanking sound as it begins to roll full tilt down the sidewalk. Tess can’t hear over the rain and the sound of metal on sidewalk, on cracked pavement, but she hears the small scream as the can hits the bend of the alley corner, and the girl comes tumbling out, soaked to the bone and shaking. She bursts into tears, whimpering quietly in the rain as she sits in a puddle, looking quite in shock. 

Tess makes decisions quickly; she has to, in her line of work. And once she’s made one, she sticks to it. (Joel doesn’t always like that part.) So when she’s halfway down the stairs with her blanket still bundled in her arms, it’s already far too late to turn back. She pushes open the door and nearly falls backwards at how wet the courtyard is, but also because the girl looks so much smaller up close. So much tinier. Sitting in the puddle, hiccuping quietly as the rain pours down on her and makes the thin fabric of her clothes stick tight. There’s a fragment of newspaper in her hair, probably from attempting to sleep in a trash can.

Tess has seen a lot of things; but seeing that tiny little thing outside the apartment buildings, alone in the gathering darkness, shakes her.

She steps out into the puddles and lakes that form on the ground, towards the overturned trash can and its former inhabitant. “Hey,” she says quietly, and the girl starts, twists to look up at her. There’s a shocked little gasp and then she starts trying to get to her feet, though her waterlogged clothes don’t help her crusade, and Tess shakes her head, hiding the blanket in the side of her shirt to keep it from getting too wet. “Wait, wait, I’m trying to -”

The girl has started to run but just as soon she slips and falls backwards, tumbles and slides on the slick pavement, and Tess shakes her head, goes to her side and bends down. “Come on,” she says, looking into the small, rather dirty face. The girl has saucer-plate-size green eyes and smudges of dirt on her nose and cheeks, and even the rain cannot wash away the redness of tears and perhaps the frustration and shame on the girl’s flushed cheeks. “I’m not gonna hurt you. But you need somewhere warm and dry to sleep, don’t you?”

The girl hiccups, looks Tess up and down, startlingly appraising for someone so little. 

“I don’t need help,” she says to Tess, and while such a valiant attempt of being brave and strong, the words are garbled and watery. “Just - go away.”

Tess sighs. “You’re soaked to the bone and you’re trying to sleep in a trash can.” She looks at it, and the girl looks, too. “And it rolled away from you.” The girl’s lip wobbles, and Tess feels guilt twist her stomach. “Here.” She drapes the blanket over the girl’s small, shaking shoulders, and she accepts it anxiously, tugging it tight around her. 

“W-hat do you want for it?” the girl sniffles at her, and she reaches into her pockets with some struggle, and brandishes one very wet and illegible ration card. It’s bent and falling to pieces, not just from the water, but age. “H-here. S’all I got.” 

Her tiny, thin fingers are trembling, and now Tess cannot tell if it’s from the cold or the sadness. She wonders how long the card has been kept; a prized possession, an escape from the hunger.

Tess presses her lips together momentarily, looks at the card. But she doesn’t take it; instead she sweeps the girl into her arms, despite some weak protests of  _ hey! what are you -  _ and bundles her tighter into the blanket. The girl hiccups, hides her face in her own hands, and Tess pulls her closer, keeps her eyes fixed on the door and then the hallway. It must be a shock for the bundle in her arms; it’s so much warmer in here, even without working heat or air, than it is outside. It’s also painfully obvious how thin they both are, but Tess pulls the girl a little closer still, and finally she hides her face in Tess’ shirt instead. 

She carries her up the stairs; “What’s your name?” she asks. The girl’s face looks up at her from the bundle, a little bit scowly, and she turns away and shivers. 

“E-Ellie.”

“Ellie,” Tess murmurs. She manages to get the door open with Ellie in her arms, then she sets to work lighting their fireplace as quick as she can. They hardly ever use it, but there’s still some dry wood under the sink, and Tess deposits Ellie on the soft couch while she piles it into the grate and lights newspaper as kindling.

“You’ll get warm soon,” she assures Ellie, watching as the girl stumbles over to where the flames flicker and curls tighter into the blanket. “Here. I’ll get you a towel and - uh - do you like tea?”

“H-haven’t had it,” Ellie says, her voice quiet, curling tighter into the blanket.

“I’ll bring you tea. And make some toast on the fire.” Her heart is beating too quickly - maybe it’s because she doesn’t know quite how Joel will react to this, but then, she means to just give the girl some basic care until the rain stops. It looks like she hasn’t even had that in a long while, so Tess chooses the fluffiest of the towels and gently pries the blanket from Ellie’s shoulders. She rubs and rubs until the clothes feel damp rather than soaking. She runs it over Ellie’s hair and wrings the water and newspaper bits from her ponytail. She dries off her face, and her small hands, and her small shoeless feet. 

“You need a bath,” Tess decides. 

“I don’t w-want a -”

Ellie sneezes and shivers. Tess places a piece of bread between tongs and holds it close enough to the flames that the surface begins to crisp. “It’ll warm you up,” she says, and Ellie scowls a little bit, sniffling as Tess pulls the toast out of the fire and gently detaches it from the tongs. It’s nice and warm and the bread is a light golden brown, and as Ellie crunches it her eyes go from squinty and tear-filled to a little wider, a little drier. She’s still shaking, so Tess decides to forgo the tea in favor of a bath. 

She waits until Ellie is done munching the piece of toast and then she scoops her up again, towel and all. 

“Where are we g-going?” she shivers, twisting around to take in her surroundings; it’s been a long time since she was in a place where people actually lived, where their daily lives were strewn about. Tess takes her into the bathroom and shuts the door, then wishes heartily for the water to at least be warm. Ellie’s skin is cold still, though it’s getting less damp the more time she spends inside, and Tess figures that at least warm water will be better than nothing. 

“I d-don’t want a bath,” Ellie says apprehensively.”I d-d-don’t like baths. I just go swimming instead.”

“You need a little soap and a little warmth,” Tess says, sighing. “C’mon, I’ll dry your clothes by the fire.” She twists the nozzle and the water comes roaring out of the faucet. It starts cold over Tess’ fingertips but it warms slowly, and when she turns it off the bathtub is relatively full with hot water. Not quite steaming, but better than warm.

Ellie shivers, peeling off her wet hoodie and small wet jeans before dipping her toe in anxiously. Tess notes how skinny the girl is, the way her row of ribs peeks through. “It’s h-hot,” Ellie says, submerging one foot, then the other; and Tess sits cross-legged on the floor, the bar of soap and the washcloth at the ready on the side of the tub. Ellie lowers herself anxiously into the warm water, and Tess is pleased to see her relax a little; her shoulders lower and she closes her eyes, almost snuggling down into the warmth of the water. Tess also notices the anxious way she holds her head right above the water, barely even lets her ears go under. 

Tess lets her float and relax for a little while, and then she dips the washcloth into the tub, rubs the bar soap on it to get it good and foamy, and looks at Ellie. “I think - you need to get clean,” she says tentatively.

“I’m clean,” Ellie says, as deep underwater as she can be with her face dry. “I don’t need soap,” she continues, sounding a little bit concerned, and Tess raises her eyebrows. She makes to start washing Ellie’s hair, but the girl yelps and squidges back against one wall. 

“It’s not going to hurt you,” Tess says, a little bit bewildered. 

Ellie stares at her, draws her knees up to her chest. She shakes her head. 

Tess sighs, and then she pulls her jeans off over her legs and climbs into the tub with a  _ ploosh _ . Ellie looks rather shocked, but Tess knows that this is necessary. “I’ll tell you what,” she says, leaning on her knees, using the same tone she often uses when she’s trying to make a deal with arms traders. “You lean back on my knees, and I will squeeze the washcloth onto your hair, and no water and no soap will get in your eyes. Promise.”

Ellie looks apprehensive, curled up on the other end of the tub, but she inchworms a little closer, and swivels around and leans back against Tess’ knees, anxiously bracing her hands on the sides of the tub. “Don’t let me slide down,” she warns anxiously, and Tess feels herself smile reflexively at the small voice. She twists the washcloth and makes Ellie’s hair clean again, massages the soap in gently and then dips the washcloth again. 

"Is it in your eyes?" Tess asks, her voice soft; Ellie whimpers quietly.

"N-ooo..." she says, looking apprehensive still. The water is warm and it laps in little waves against her skin; but Ellie still feels a little sore and cold, the bruises on her arms and legs more evident now that she’s getting cleaner. She feels Tess’ hands running through her hair, combing out the tangles gently. “Ow,” she says, although it wasn’t that hard of a pull.

“Sorry.” Tess goes gentler then, works the knots out smoothly, and wets the washcloth again so she can wring it over Ellie’s hair. She starts to dab at Ellie’s cheeks, too, at the smudges of dirt still evident there, and Ellie scrunches her face up at the intrusion. It becomes apparent, after a few gentle scrubs, that the girl has freckles. 

“Mm- stop rubbing so hard,” Ellie whines. “Those spots don’t come off.”

Tess stops washing rather indignantly. “I know that. I have them too. But this dirt comes off.”

“Not dirty,” Ellie mumbles. In fact, she feels tired; sleepy and dozy in the warm water, leaning back like this. Tess continually soaps her, but she finally sighs and relents when she sees Ellie’s eyelids starting to droop. She pulls the drain plug.

“H - ey,” Ellie says, shivering as the water level goes down. “‘s cold.”

“That’s why we have towels,” Tess says, smiling slightly as she steps from the tub, shivering a little herself with the way her bare legs trickle water onto the tile floor. She picks up the cleaner, fluffier of the towels and wraps Ellie up in it, squeezes the water gently from her hair. There’s a cursory dry of her own legs, and then she walks Ellie down the hall to her and Joel’s bedroom, her hand gentle on the girl’s towel-wrapped back.

“C’mere.” She lifts Ellie onto the edge of their bed, watches as the girl bounces almost in surprise, her small hand pressing against the mattress. 

Ellie leans down, rubs her face against the covers and breathes in the smell of them; clean, soft, a little bit like sleep and people. She doesn’t remember the last time she had blankets that didn’t smell like dumpsters and alleyways. “‘s soft,” she murmurs, and Tess reaches for the edge of the towel to rub her dry.

“We’ll get you in something soft too,” she promises. She pulls open the dresser drawers, painfully sparse inside; Joel’s flannel for winter occupying one half of this one, but she wouldn’t try borrowing one of those just now. Her own shirts, a couple of t-shirts nearly as worn as the girl’s, and then she grabs her old blue sweatshirt from the bottom of the pile, shakes it out, holds it up - it’s big on her, there’s no telling how it will look on a small, skinny kid like Ellie, but it’s the warmest thing she owns. 

Tess also takes the faded quilt from the bottom drawer, a possession they acquired at the Boston QZ’s idea of a flea market, like some kind of strange fucked-up wedding registry present that they’ve never used (body heat feels more efficient). It’s also small, which might be why; and she tugs the blanket off their bed, too, her pillow.

“I’ll dry your clothes on the line once the rain lets up,” Tess says, a strange balance of hardness and softness in her voice that she’s never heard before. 

“Stand up,” she says to towel-wrapped Ellie, who stumbles when she stands and so Tess kneels by her instead, drapes the quilt over her narrow shoulders. 

"Here, take this." She holds it out, her faded blue sweatshirt that stayed with her all the way from St. Louis. She wears it when she's cold, which is often, or on the rare night when Joel isn't curled around her. She drapes it over Ellie's shoulders and starts rifling through the cabinets.

"Is this y-yours?" Ellie shivers; she tugs it close around her, the sleeves floppy without her arms in them. She swims in it, and that's saying something,  because Tess is small. 

The ends of Ellie's hair are damp and she's tucked under their best, thickest blankets, but still she shivers, and that worries Tess, that she might be catching a fever. 

"Yeah, 's mine. You can wear it for a little."

Ellie's small hands curl along the zipper. She brings the soft fabric to touch her cheek and inhales. It smells pretty nice, she thinks. Clean and kinda citrusy and very faintly perfumed. She nuzzles back into the sweater; she shivers and shakes uncontrollably still, and her nose is running and her chest feels kinda funny, but the sweater is soft and gentle on her cheek when she leans her head back and puts her arms through the sweatshirt sleeves. The inside is fleecy.

“I think I got stuff to make you some chicken soup,” Tess is saying, and Ellie pulls the quilt up to her nose, curls into it, shivering. “You hungry? Or - oh.”

Ellie sneezes hard, three times in a row, and huddles deeper into the sweater shakily.

She feels guilt tug at her heart and takes the matches, lights the row of candles on the crate-table and pushes it closer to Ellie. “We have a fireplace,” she says, “I’ll get Joel to bring up some firewood when he gets home.” She pulls over a crate to sit on, so that she’s beside Ellie, those green eyes staring wide at her from over the edge of the quilt. “Hair’s all messy,” Tess says quietly, “we’ll fix it, hmm?”

She combs through the tangles the rain made in Ellie’s hair, gentle, and Ellie mushes her face into the soft fabric of the pillow, burrows into the sweatshirt deeper. Tess’ fingers are warm and her touch is soft, gentle, like a massage and she starts to braid absentmindedly, small french braids to pull Ellie’s hair back from her face. By the time Tess is finished with them Ellie’s asleep, looks so small and frail underneath the pile of blankets, cold in the candelight.


	2. negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joel finds out

She’s busy looking through numbers when Joel gets home. 

Tess keeps a record, with the addresses and goods of purveyors around the city; of what Bill can import for them, a list in two columns with some items scratched off and others added at the end. She’s looking for specific items - cold medicine and chicken soup, maybe crackers if she can get them, tealeaves - even anything sweet, though that’s hard to come by these days. 

She hears the door open; she supposes she should’ve been paying attention to the sound of the locks, but she’s focused intently on making her list of who she will go to, who to threaten and who to ply with favors; and she hears her door click open and then Joel is standing there, plastic bags with the rations inside nearly dropped onto the floor.

“Uh - Tess?”

“Just a sec, just a sec,” she murmurs, scribbling the last set of contact information, and then looking up - “hm?”

“What....what, uh - “

“Hmmn?” Ellie wriggles on the couch, shivering and bundling tighter into her blankies, peering up at him through blurry eyes. Then they open a little bit more, and she shrinks back into the cushions, pulling her quilt up to her cheeks and quivering behind it. She appears to be hiding from him, and he stares at her, their eyes meeting. 

“What’s goin’ on here, Tess?”

She drifts to the couch, her arms draping over the cushions protectively as she tucks Ellie in tighter. The girl whimpers and squirms underneath the blankets until her head is covered and she is a small lump beneath the quilts. From her little cave she can barely see light filtering through, and the voices are quite muffled, but she hopes that he didn’t notice her - that she went under the blankets before he could see her.

“She’s sick,” Tess says, her voice soft but cold at the same time, a catch in her throat, and she smoothes the blankets around the little lump. She nods, towards their room, and he follows her, picks up the plastic bags again and sets them on the counter. Ellie hears the gentle click of a door shutting and slowly, carefully worms out of her blankie cave, to peer up over the side of the couch. Her head kinda feels funny, all swimmy, so she sinks back against Tess’ pillow and squeezes her eyes shut, wondering when Tess will come back and make her take off the sweatshirt, and take her old clothes and leave.

“What’re you doin’, Tess?” he asks her, pacing to lean against the bed; Tess shuffles a little in front of the door, avoids his gaze.

“She was caught in the rain, Joel. Fuckin’ drowning in it, tryin’ to hide in a damn trash can.” She bites her lip, folds her arms resolutely. “What was I supposed to do, just leave her out there?”

Joel sighs, makes those grumbly old-man sounds he makes when he doesn’t want to give her a straight answer; but Tess doesn’t let this sway her. “Why’m I not surprised. Tess, she’s a street kid. She’s been through worse. You wanna help, give ‘er to Joanna. She feeds those rats all the time.”

“She’s not a  _ rat _ , Joel, she’s a child. A little girl. And she’s staying here.” She watches him, trying to catch his eye; she guesses she should have known, and there is a small bubble of guilt in the pit of her stomach for not having thought of it. 

“For how long?” he continues, shaking his head. “She’s not some kinda stray dog y’can keep, Tess. Someone’s gotta be lookin’ for her.”

“Until she’s better. And then - then we’ll figure it out.” She edges closer to him, her hands reaching, tentative -  “Look, I’m not askin’ you to take her on with me, Joel. You don’t want anything to do with her; I get it. Just - don’t ask me to put her back on those streets when she’s like this.” 

He looks away, but then he meets her eyes, and she is rather astonished at the amount of pain, of softness that she sees there; it disarms her, and she reaches for his hand, squeezes his fingers in hers. 

“I’ve done a lot of things, Joel, we’ve done a lot of things, but I can’t send her back out there,” she says, the plaintive note evident in her voice. 

“Fine. I - fine.” He laces their fingers together reflexively, but his voice cracks when he speaks again, “just don’t - I don’t wanna see you gettin’ hurt, Tess. 's all I’m sayin’.”

“I know, old man. I know.” He stands and his arms slide around her waist; she nuzzles him gently, her hair soft against his cheek, and he kisses wherever he can reach. 

He rubs the back of his neck when they pull away, shakes his head and mutters - “Y’coulda told me you wanted a pet. Jim got puppies just last week.”

“Very funny, Texas.” She punches him in the arm and he winces, rubbing at the spot knowing it’ll bruise later, knowing he’ll probably leave some marks on her in return, and Tess smiles wryly like she knows just what he’s thinking. “Now, what’s for dinner tonight, then?”

She opens the door and is greeted with the sight of a little lump shivering on the floor, blankets pulled around her, searching through the box they keep under the crate table. 

“Oh - Ellie? What’re you doing, hon?” Tess is there immediately, flurrying about her anxiously, pushing the blankets tighter round Ellie’s shoulders. One arm is inside the sweatshirt and one is not. 

“W-where’re m-my clothes?” Ellie whimpers. “‘m gonna g-go -”

“What? No - no,” Tess says, her voice switching from frantic to firm as she picks Ellie up, despite protests; she carries her small bundle to the couch and sets her back down, brushes the girl’s hair back from her face to check the temperature of her forehead. She’s warm, and her cheeks are flushed. “What? Why would you leave, hon?”

Ellie shakes her head. “‘c-’cause you don’t have to k-keep me then -”

“Oh - “

Tess pulls her close, kneels down beside the couch for easier cuddles. She hugs the girl tightly, lets the small, quivering lump of blankets curl into her arms, “you just think about feeling better, all right? Don’t worry. We’re gonna get you some medicine and in the meantime you stay cozy and - and I’ll get you some paper and crayons somehow, okay? You like to draw?”

“I’ve n-never d-drawed,” Ellie says, sniffling. “W-wanna try.”

“I’ll show you how to make whatever you want,” Tess soothes her, slipping one arm back into the sweatshirt. “And we’ll get you some cozy clothes too so you don’t have to sit around in this old thing all day.”

“I l-like it. S-smells good.”

Joel watches them in the doorway, sees the softness in her hands as she smoothes Ellie’s hair; that tone of voice, sweet and warm and rich like honey. He could never have said no; not to Tess and not, he suspects, to the little burrito on their couch.

(He likes watching her be a mother.)


	3. adapting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They adjust

It takes a while for Ellie to get back on her feet. It’s not unexpected, given her relative smallness and lack of substantial warmth and sustenance before Tess, but nevertheless, it keeps Tess awake for weeks. It takes about two weeks, give or take, full of whiny, cranky nights of fever dreams and weepy refusals of any kind of food, but Ellie stops cold sweating, and her temperature regulates back to normal. By then, she’s a tinier thing, a little weak, but she stays wrapped up tight in a burrito of their small quilt and Tess’ old sweater. 

“ _ You _ ’re gonna be catchin’ something now,” Joel tells Tess one day; she’s visibly drained, face gaunt and dark bags sink her usually bright, keen gaze, but all she can think about is if the girl is warm enough at night. “She’s gonna be fine, Tess. The fire’s nice and big and you put her in three layers of things already.”

“But -” Tess sighs, shoulders sagging as Joel shuts their bedroom door - not all the way, just so they can hear Ellie - and maneuvers her into bed. She is exhausted, she knows it, hasn’t slept a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and it’s been starting to take a toll on her overall personality. She sighs again, nuzzling into his pillow, breathing in the scent of him, and presses in close when he wraps around her.

She’s out before he blows out the candle.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the small burrito girl squirms on the couch, peering out uncertainly at the crackling fire; the shadows that dance and skirt over the wall and ceiling. There are noises coming from upstairs, and out in the hall, and out in the street from the window, and Ellie huddles deeper into her wrappings, rolls off onto the floor until her tiny feet touch the cool hardwood. 

She pulls Tess’ sweater tighter around her shoulders, smells the familiar, warming scent for comfort. The door keeps open, slanted and dark inside, and Ellie contemplates leaving the warmth of the living room and its shadow monsters for the darkness. 

The darkness has Tess though.

“T-Tess?” The door creaks open slightly, barely noticeable; Ellie’s small frame can shuffle through the gap without issue, and her tiny feet barely shift the creaking wood. She pads over to the huddle of limbs; Joel wrapped over Tess tight with his arm locked firmly around the woman’s waist, and his loud, rumbling snores tells her that he is very, very deep in his slumber. She reaches on her tiptoes carefully, the tips of two of her fingers pressing against Tess’ cheek gingerly. “Tess…?”

Despite the deep, heavy pull of sleep, Tess forces an eye open slowly. Her eye widens suddenly, and Ellie sees the woman jolt. “‘llie?”

Ellie bites her lip, rocking on her feet, pulling her burrito of blankets around herself tighter. “I - I gotta pee,” she whispers, wide green eyes darting to the ominously opened bathroom door across the way. “I don’t wanna - I can’t go alone.”

She stares into the woman’s face pleadingly. “C-can you come with me? Please?”

Tess rubs the sleep from her eyes, groaning as she throws Joel’s arm off her body. The girl is staring at her still, nibbling at the edge of her lip as she smothers a wet, phlegmy cough that makes Tess frown. 

“Do you need more medicine?” she asks gently, trying to ignore the rising tickle in her own throat. 

Ellie shakes her head, reaching out with a small, cool hand to take Tess’. “Just wanna pee, please?”

Tess stumbles out of bed, abandoning the warmth of Joel where the man rolls onto his back at her absence, snoring loudly while Ellie skirts around the bed carefully, stumbling on her little feet as they catch on the edges of her blanket burrito. 

She tucks it up for Ellie, picking up her tail and holding it as they scurry to the bathroom, a tired smile gracing the woman’s face. 

“Get the - the light.” Ellie hops for the switch, rather put-out until Tess reaches for it herself and illuminates the plain, white bathroom. “Thank you,” she mumbles, and Tess leans against the doorway heavily, smiling crookedly at the girl as Ellie scoots herself onto the toilet seat, and then there are quiet pee sounds. 

“Oughta get you a nightlight, hmm kid?” Tess murmurs once they’re cleaned up and ambling back to the living room. She all but collapses onto the couch, picking Ellie up and depositing the girl back into her warm nest, tucking all limbs back into her wrappings like a larger burrito. She smiles again at Ellie through bleary eyes when she looks up at her with wide, much too awake eyes, fuffling down into the couch. 

Ellie shifts closer to her surreptitiously. “Um - can you sleep here?” she whispers shyly. “ W-with me?”

“'s gonna kill my back, Ellie,” Tess says, but sighs anyway, and straightens out on the cramped space of their battered, squashy couch. She wraps her slender arms around the big puff of blankets and squishes Ellie close, blowing the girl’s hair out of her face. 

“’s better?” she mumbles, half-asleep.

Ellie murmurs her content, and nuzzles in close. They sleep deep and dreamless, and warm.

 

\-------

“She’s a tiny little thing, isn’t she?”

Ellie sneezes, quite forcefully and painfully, and whines as she wipes her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. Tess squeezes her close, crouched by her side and watching as Joanna fumbles around for the hidden pile of clothing she keeps for the kids. Joanna is nearly ancient, as far as Tess is concerned; the elderly matron is always so sweet, so kind and gentle - but Tess knows that Joanna has lived long enough to give even the meanest thugs she knows reason to straighten themselves up and help her down the stairs. 

She must’ve lived long enough to see half of the men running the place grow into their shoes.

Small, weathered hands produce a handful of shirts, some mended down and oversized; some looking as if they were perfectly sized for a little seven year old like Ellie. “Here, sweetheart.” Joanna says, smiling warmly as she beckons Ellie to her. “Come here and try this on for size.”

Ellie shuffles forward hesitantly, glancing back at Tess for reassurance. Her clothes had dried, but the cold had steeped into her skin instead; she has a fever, according to Tess, and Ellie thinks that whatever a fever is, she doesn’t like the way it makes her achy and her head hurt bad. She hadn’t even wanted to come to see Joanna, but Tess had carried her in her bundle of blankies across the hall to see the old lady for new clothes. 

“I don’t got ‘nything to pay for the clothes,” she mumbles, but Joanna croons at her, smooths down her tuft of perpetual bedhair with surprisingly dextrous hands. 

“There’s no better payment than seeing a tiny little thing like you in decent clothes, honey child,” Joanna tells her, and together with Tess’ help, she unbundles Ellie from her burrito and eases her instead into a slightly baggy, well-worn sweater and jeans that need to be rolled up several times before her tiny feet peek through. “Such a skinny thing,” Joanna sighs.

Tess wraps the girl back into her blankets and lifts Ellie into her arms. “Thanks, Joanna,” she says, allowing the woman to pat her hand gently. She leaves a small bundle of fresh fruits Joel had picked that morning; raspberries and freshly bloomed strawberries, what little gratitude she can offer to this woman. 

“Oh, one more thing, dear -” Joanna bustles about the small apartment and returns with a scarf. She wraps it over Tess’ neck, tugging it gently. “There. I saw that man of yours wearing your scarf out the other day; I thought you might like an extra just in case.”

She pats Tess’ hand, her small, wrinkled face pulled into a kind smile. “Take good care of that little girl, Tess. She’s gonna need a mama like you.”

Tess flushes, tries to think of anything to say, but she’s not sure she can; her brain is suddenly overwhelmed with both thoughts and the sensation of not thinking a thing, rather feeling every emotion at once. She squishes Ellie close, wanting to curl tighter around her, hold and protect her, and at the same time she feels part of her anxiously resisting. She doesn’t know if she’s afraid of what will happen if she willingly embraces that title, or if she feels she’s not quite deserving of it just yet, but either way she feels just a little shaky as she stands in the doorway.

“T-Tess?” Ellie’s small fingers curl into her the collar of her shirt, weak but persistent. 

“Hmm?” 

She is bundled back onto the couch and fussed about for a moment; it bewilders the girl at how much Tess hovers, without asking for anything, without telling her what is expected of her as soon as the fever is gone. She stares up at Tess with wide, bleary eyes, fuffles down into her new shirt that smells faintly musty and kind of like old lady, but it’s soft and warm. 

Surely there must be something she can do in return. She looks around the room; there’s a small clutter of boxes in the corner, filled with something like plastic bottles and tin cans. Joel had mumbled something that morning - she’d heard them talk by the door when they thought she was still asleep, but Ellie had squirmed down low into her blankies and peeked over the top.

“‘m gonna need glasses by the end of it,” he’d sighed, and Tess had pressed her hands to his chest, smiled at him warmly and they kissed for a long while. 

“Don’t worry about it, old man,” Tess had murmured to him, and she had slipped something into his hand. Ellie couldn’t see it over the end of the couch, but she figured it might be food because Tess is nice and she feeds them. “I’ll sort the pills out while you get the shipments through, okay? Don’t get hurt.” 

She had kissed him again, and when the door shut Ellie had squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. 

Presently she watches Tess tug the boxes over to the couch, and there’s a great pile of pills on the coffee table then. She shifts closer to the woman, sniffles pathetically until Tess pets her hair and lets her rest on her lap as she sorts the pills into bottles.

“'s all about the numbers on ‘em, see?” she tells Ellie distractedly. “Some of them have different numbers, and they gotta go together with the other same numbers.” The white pills clatter into the bottles as she shakes them, smiling gently. 

“H-how many do you put inside?” Ellie asks, watching as keenly as she can; it’s still hard to keep her head up, but lying in Tess’ lap is nice and warm and soft, and she cuddles into the warmth.

Tess hums, sets the filled bottle aside. “About twenty per bottle. Sometimes we don’t have enough.” She glances down at Ellie. “You know how to count, hon? Know how to write your name and stuff?”

Ellie huddles tighter into her blankets, shameful. “No. I can - I can count to - a three, and - and maybe some, but I never writted my name before.” She hasn’t had a need to, after all. How do you even spell her name? 

“You know your alphabets at all, hon?” Tess asks, frowning now. It’s hard to tell if she’s surprised or saddened by it; she doesn’t think Ellie has ever had anyone to teach her, and really - who has the time to go out on the streets and teach kids how to read and write anymore?

Ellie shrugs, and Tess sighs. She squishes the girl close and smooths down her thick ponytail of hair gently. “When you’re better, I’ll teach you how to draw, and how to write your name, mm? I’ll get you storybooks.”

Tess gets through about a third of the way through organizing their goods, checking things off her list and scribbling new notes in the margins to remind her which are Bill’s and which go to the wharf. Ellie dozes in and out, waking in between her little catnaps when Tess gets her upright to eat or to towel down her cold sweat. Joel comes home some time just before dinner, and by the time the door locks sound and creak, Tess is contemplating if jerky should be a side dish or a main feature in their hobo scrambler of canned potatoes and carrots with vaguely egg-like liquid egg. 

“‘lo there,” he greets them, depositing a box of goods by the kitchen counter as he drops a kiss to Tess’ cheek. “Smells good.” He takes a hearty whiff, grinning at her when she shoves him away, clicking her tongue at the state of his boots.

“You’re tracking mud all over the fucking place,” she grouses, and he sweeps the floor obediently, kisses her cheek again until she smacks him in the chest with the rag and tells him to watch the rest of the pan or it’ll burn while she feeds Ellie.

Ellie pokes her head out of her burrito at her name, looking quite disoriented and sleepy as Joel inclines his head at her, smiling mildly at the thin wave he gets in return. He watches Tess prop herself by Ellie’s side, spooning small bites of egg and potatoes into the girl’s mouth, whispering quiet words of encouragement when Ellie won’t eat more.

“Come on, hon, you gotta eat or you won’t get better,” Tess says, and Joel pulls the pan off the stove, brings it to the coffee table with it carefully wrapped in a kitchen towel to keep from hurting anyone. 

“Here,” he says, setting the pan down and reaching into his jeans pocket. He grapples with whatever it is for a moment, grunting when he finally produces a box of something carefully wrapped in cloth. “Found this down by the markets.”

He offers it to Ellie, holding out the wad of cloth almost impatiently until the girl takes it from him tentatively. “Figured you’d wanna have somethin’ to do all day outside of watchin’ the hours go by.”

Ellie unravels it carefully and blinks. The etchings on the box is hardly legible, but it fits in her small hands, and the small window cut into the box reveals long, thin sticks with many colors. “'s a box.”

“‘s a box o’ crayons, hon,” Tess says, voice suddenly quite thick, turning to Joel. “How’d you get it??”

Joel shrugs, stabbing a good mouthful of food and guiding it to Tess’ mouth. “Saw ‘em down by the market, like I said.” Of course, by  _ saw _ , he means he very casually pulled a favor/threatened to flay a debtor of theirs into getting them for him.

But Tess doesn’t need to know that.

When it’s time for bed, Ellie asks if she can sleep with the crayons, hugs them close and keeps them wrapped reverently in the cloth to keep them from breaking. “So’s - so no one can take them,” she whispers, and the quiet resignation is enough for Tess to want to find whoever it is who has ever taken anything from Ellie and break their kneecaps with a bat. 

“Of course, hon.” Tess tells her, and gives the girl extra tight squishes. She sets the water glass by the table just in case, and reminds Ellie that she has to take the medicine too before she kisses the girl goodnight. Tess comes out only once after to check on her again, and then Ellie sees Joel come out, half-dressed for bed and fumbling for something out of the box he brought home.

Ellie hugs her crayons closer. “Um - J-Joel? Sir?”

Joel’s ears seem to perk; he glances at her curiously, and she huddles down into her blankets shyly, her words muffled through the material. “Th-thank you. For th’crayons,” and then she pulls the covers up all the way and becomes a little cocoon again. 

She doesn’t see the shift of his face, the fade of hardness and lines smoothing over. “You’re welcome, Ellie,” he says softly, pausing in the doorway just until he sees her peeking over the covers again. “G’night, kid. Sleep tight.”

(When Joel wakes the next morning, he takes one look outside in the living room before he wakes Tess up too, and guides the half-asleep woman out to where the small burrito is asleep on the floor, surrounded by neatly organized bottles of pills. Ellie wakes up at their mumbling words, and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, says “s’for a thank you,” and then inchworms her way back onto the couch and flops there.)


	4. errands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie likes to be helpful

“I can go alone!” Ellie says, the whine peeking through in her voice, and she slumps back against the couch cushions. “I’m big enough to carry them - “

“‘s not if you’re big enough or not, Ellie,” Joel tells her, resolute; she peers up at him, pleading, but he shakes his head. “‘s not safe - y’can’t walk from here alone -”

“I walk  _ lots  _ of places alone,” she says imploringly, “I mean, I used to go, all the way down to the wharf by myself, and I had a lot of dog friends - and - and I go in small space so nobody can see me…”

“Ellie…” He sighs, rubs his temples. 

“Well - really - ‘s wrong with her going?” Tess is chewing on her bottom lip, her brow furrowed as she bends over a sheet of numbers and a half-done to-do list. At the top there are a few highly prioritized items - XTRA SHIRTS FOR ELLIE. SOAP. PONYTAIL HOLDERS. 

Joel turns around at this - “because she’s  _ six _ , Tess, y’really mean to tell me that like ‘s just fine for her to wander ‘round a QZ all alone?”

Tess’ eyes flicker to his, and he catches that unperturbed, innocuous look in her eyes before she looks away. “The ration center isn’t far, Joel,” she says, “and Ellie, y’know where you’re going. She knows this city almost as well as us.” A small smile curls on her face, and Joel makes a noise in his throat.

“She’s little,” he protests, and Ellie squirms in the couch cushions.

“I’m big enough,” she wails. “I can climb, and I could fight too! If I - jumped on the person and hit hard…”

Tess pushes off the countertop, sidles over to Ellie and smooths her bangs, fluffs them up again. “Y’know, ‘s dangerous out there, Ellie,” she says solemnly, and the girl nods, just as serious, perhaps forecasting that Tess will be more allowing of this trip than Joel. “But as long as you’re careful, I don’t see why -”

“Tess -”

“Y’wanna talk about it?” she asks, her voice a little harsh, and Joel levels with her eyes, nods his head at the door to their bedroom.

Ellie skips along beside them, and then Tess says “hon -” but Ellie nods, still quite serious.

“Now you gotta talk about it,” she says. “Grownups talk lots. That’s okay. I’ll wait right here.” and she plops down outside the door, crossing her legs. 

“She’s a little kid, Tess - “ he says the second she’s shut the door, and she starts too - 

“It’s not like she’s sheltered, she’s been around the city, nothing’s gonna happen - “

Joel puffs, in that way that makes her mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile; but her face straightens when he speaks, because part of her recognizes that tone in his voice even if she’s never quite heard it before, not in this context. He says it when she wants to make a drop at night, alone; he says it when she takes the worst way back home because that’s the shortest. 

“I can’t have her gettin’ hurt.”

_ I can’t have you gettin’ hurt,  _ he’ll say to her, his hand gentle, hovering over her shoulder but not quite touching until she gives him the nonverbal permission he requests. 

Something tugs in her heart, just as soft as the way he turns from her and steps to the window, braces his forearm on the sill and leans, the old flannel sheets they use as curtains filtering the light in thinly. “She might’a lived like that before we found her,” he says, “but hell ‘f I’m makin’ her go through those things again. She’s gotta understand - she doesn’t have to do a damn thing any more, we aren’t sendin’ her out to - work, run our errands for us…”

“She needs a routine, Joel,” Tess says, speaking carefully - “she’s bored cooped up all the time, and I don’t think you like it either that the only place she’s allowed to go is the courtyard - “

“Well, maybe if it were different times, Tess, all right?” He stops, and she sees the muscles in his back tense; she has the urge to go to him and rub his neck free of knots. “‘s not.”

He squints out the small gap of light that comes in through the window. Their bedroom doesn’t look out over much - just the back of the street, the wall, and the treetops swaying teasingly in the distance, verdant green canopies encroaching on the concrete of the walls.

Tess sighs, and he hears her feet creak the soft old floorboards as she approaches him. He feels her presence behind him, but she does not touch him; just leans in so that she’s in the corner of his vision. “Hey.” 

He turns to look at her, and through his rather grumpy visage he takes in the shape of her face, round but angular with light, intrepid eyes and a smattering of faint freckles across her cheeks and nose; she is almost harsh, almost, but instead he sees steel that belies softness underneath. “She’ll be okay.” Tess raises her eyebrows coaxingly, understandingly, and nods at the door, where Ellie is undoubtedly listening with ear pressed close. When Tess speaks again her voice is lower, softer, with that almost-hoarse richness he likes to hear in his ear at certain times of day, dark and secret. “You could wait for her at the corner,” she mutters, her lips curving gently. “Pretend you got somethin’ to do and send her along on her errand, that way you can keep an eye out and she can do it by herself.”

His arm drifts around Tess’ waist reflexively, and he revels in the feeling of her warmth next to him, in his arms, safe, alive. Tess is hesitant to ever accept that she feels certain ways, but if, perhaps, she did, she feels a distinct sensation of melting somewhere in her chest or her throat. 

“She’s lucky she’s got you, Tex, y‘know.” She shoves him gently, enough so that she can snap back to his side as they let the light fall on them. 

He makes a gruff, rumbling sound that may once have been a word. There is a very small knock at the door, and a muffled voice - “can I come in, please?”

“C’mon in, baby girl,” he says; he does not often use this term, never casually, never with Tess, and lately he catches himself saying it more and more without thought. “I, uh...gotta get to the guy I buy hardware from, ‘s some loose screws in the bathroom cabinets. Y’think you’d wanna walk with me to the corner, then we head off to run our errands?”

“Ooh.” Ellie nods, quiet solemn, and snaps her feet together, squares her shoulders resolutely. “Yup. That sounds good.” She looks at Tess surreptitiously, and then at Joel, and then trots almost suspiciously away to grab her backpack. 

He walks her to the corner, as promised, where the streets diverge; he bids her to be careful, to walk quickly and ‘with a purpose’, and then he steps round the decaying building-brick as her shoes tap on the sidewalk.

(He waits, checking occasionally as she walks, until she is small in the distance and the shortest in the ration line; she has the cards Tess gave her, tucked carefully into her backpack.)

When she turns to come back he waits, and then, at just the right time, he pretends to nearly run into her. “Well,” he says, as she hefts the plastic bags over her shoulders. “Looks like you got quite a bit to carry,” he observes. “Need some help?” She lifts the bag as high as she can before he takes it from her.

“I did it,” Ellie chirps, waving up to their window as they enter the courtyard. 

“Good job, baby girl,” he says, and Ellie beams.

\------

First she needs to learn to count, says Ellie, sorting the pills into blue/yellow/red in little piles on the living room floor. This way, maybe she can help work, and then once she writes, she can write on the sheets, and then once she reads, she can read all the orders, and Tess shakes her head - “you don’t have to do those things, Ellie, you can read books and write stories;” and Ellie nods despite looking slightly disappointed, so Tess takes pity on her and suggests that, perhaps, yes, it might be helpful if she learns to write the exact number of each color of pill on a sheet of paper. 

So, Joel gets a notepad, and together the three of them spend an afternoon sat on the floor, Ellie on her favorite pillow cushion, drawing pencil boxes on the paper and setting two, three, or four pills inside. 

_ Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineten _ , Ellie likes to say, very quickly. She finds it amusing that ‘nineten’ and ‘nineteen’ are really close to sounding the same, and when they begin to work on addition (nine and ten is nineteen) she is especially impressed. She begins to doodle large numbers with faces around the margins of the paper, and is pleased when she can recognize them off the order sheets - Tess starts finding large, smiling 2s and 7s on the backs of her forms and can’t help but feel rather warm inside when she’s writing in or crossing off and sees them grinning up at her. 

Ellie is far more eager to write her name. She traces over Tess’ signature frantically and tries to replicate the sweeping lines, drawing strange, scrawly Tess-signatures on every inch of paper, and then Joel-signatures which are a good deal less legible and more like shapes than letters.

Eventually Tess makes a big sheet with all the letters, upper and lowercase, in dashed and dotted lines for easier tracing capabilities. Joel stays up later than usual one night and they make it together over glasses of scotch, leaning on the kitchen countertops; he writes  _ THE ALPHABET  _ in careful, big, even block letters. They make even, dark lines using the straight back of a plank of wood to make them even, and Joel sets it carefully on the coffee table for Ellie to find the next morning. 

The next morning she knocks frantically on their door, at a rather inopportune time; his tongue is inside of her and his mouth is on her clit, sucking at her folds, so that when Tess hears knocks and an excited little voice, it takes her a moment before she can choke out “one - one second!” and whisper it to him -  _ stop stop wait,  _ gather the sheets around her bare body and rush red-faced to the door.

“Oh!” she says, beaming, momentarily forgetting where she’d been left. “You found it!”

“It’s  _ letters _ ,” Ellie says, nearly breathless with excitement, holding the sheet of paper aloft. 

“Yeah,” Tess says, “yeah, you want us to show you how? Just uh -” she tilts her head back into the room; Joel is barely covered with the sheets and gives her a curling lustful grin that leaves barely anything imagined. “Why don’t you give me...five minutes?” She grins, too, a sly challenge; “to get dressed and cleaned up and things.”

She has to say; he’s damn good under pressure.

So Ellie asks if she’s okay when she wobbles unsteadily over to the couch, hides a wince when she sits back down; “just fine,” she says as Joel takes the cast-iron skillet from beneath the sink and starts lighting the stove for breakfast, looking equally sapped of energy.

“Which ones are for my name?” Ellie asks delightedly, smoothing the paper down and taking a crayon from her small, well-organized lineup. She’s wearing the cerulean blue down to a stub, so today she chooses forest green, a color which she enjoys matching to Joel’s favorite plaid. Sometimes, she helps them get dressed; she’ll stand in front of the dresser with them and pick out a flannel or one of Tess’ sweatshirts, although more often than not, she ends up styling herself (many a cold day has been spent wrapped in Joel’s shirt, which comes down to her ankles and gives her ‘floppy bat wings’).

“‘kay, this one here’s an ‘E’,” Tess says, pointing to the ones on the chart; “you have two in your name.”

“Here. Can I borrow a crayon?” Joel inquires, and Ellie nods, handing him forest green. He draws on the side of the paper: E-L-L-I-E. “That there’s your name.”

She squints at it. “That’s my name?”

They sound it out together - eee, elll, elll, “this one makes the same sound as E?” she asks, confused, and when the answer is ‘sometimes’, Ellie looks highly skeptical of this whole alphabet thing.

Her alphabet practice becomes her favorite (though a frustrating) part of her day. Once she can recite them all, incredibly fast, and sing her ABCs, she starts to sound out words; ‘TES’ is the first thing to appear on the paper, followed almost instantly with a ‘JOLE’. Ellie begins to label everything, taping small pieces of paper to the couch, to the bed, to pillows and cooking utensils, as belonging to either ‘JOLE’ or ‘TES’. She asks for the letters to be pointed out on signs, for help sounding them out - ‘rations’ is a confusing one for her, because of ‘tion’ and its strange sound. She scrapes the word ‘TUNNEL’ into the dirt on the floor of this namesake, just so that they can always remember where they are. The small drawings she likes to do in the evenings become labeled works of art - “COWcH”, “TABEL”, “CHAR”, and “PILO” are all frequent featurers in Ellie’s still lives.

(One night Tess is sorting through the papers on the crate table and comes across three stick figures - one in red, one in forest green, and one in dusty pink, helpfully labeled ‘FAmLY’.)

She thinks privately that if she had magnets, she’d plaster their fridge with the little Ellie drawings, with each small label permanently affixed to everything they own.


	5. stepping stones

It takes a while before they give Ellie chores. 

They want to ease her into life with them; so it’s a long time before they think to give her more of a structured routine around the house, but Ellie doesn’t like being cooped up, and they don’t like to let her wander alone, so when she’s not playing in the courtyard, Ellie makes up her list of chores.

It had started when Joel asked her if she’d like to help wash the dishes - to their surprise, she had jumped at the opportunity, watched as he showed her how to scrub in circles with the rag and get all the grime off the plates and cups. 

“Ellie?” Tess had said to her gently, as she’d soaped up her hands excitedly; “what d’you think about helping out some around the house?”

“Huh?” Ellie had looked up at her seriously, paused with soap up to her elbows and the washing rag in her hand. “A list?” Her eyes lit up then - “like, like make it with crayons and papers?”

Tess grinned at that - “sure, hon. Why don’t you draw up a list, yeah? A schedule? Would you like that?”

“I wanna help,” she had exclaimed, bouncing rather anxiously on the balls of her feet; Ellie had been wondering for a long time when they were going to ask for help in return for taking care of her, and even though she’s not exactly sure that’s how mamas and daddies work, she figures she still ought to try and help out, especially ‘cause they always do all the chores around here, and even though she was sick at the beginning, she’s never had to do them.

So Ellie draws up a list. She sets out the nicest, cleanest sheet of paper she possesses and begins to make small boxes - for the check marks. Beside each one in neat, clean letters (well, as neat and clean as she can possibly make them), she writes the name of a chore she thinks might need doing; DUZTIN, KLENIN, for example; she decides on drawing some helpful illustrations so that Joel and Tess know precisely to what she is referring. There are pictures of herself straightening pillows (PILOS - MEK NEET), sweeping the floor with the broom that lies handmade against the wall by the door (BRUSS WITH BRUM), or helping to make the bed in the morning (STRETIN CUVERZ AFTR RESTLIN). 

“Some of it I might need help with,” she says as she holds out her list to Tess. 

“Ellie’s - sh - chore list,” Tess mouths to herself. ELLIESCHOARLISST, says the top of the paper, all in very very tightly packed letters in order to account for space. “Wow. This looks so good, hon,” she says. “What d’you think, Joel?”

He leans over her shoulder, drops a light kiss there over the thin fabric and feels the warmth of her skin beneath his lips. He’s not one for PDA, not when there are images to keep up and there are still walls around the both of them in the brightly lit public streets of daytime, but here, in the safety and warmth of the small space they call home, he kisses her as often as he can, every time he enters the same pocket of air she breathes from, he pulls her close, his arm round her waist, squeezes imperceptibly and kisses a place he hasn’t kissed in a while - shoulder, neck, wrist, tips of fingers, just behind ear and just in front of, temple, hair. He tucks it behind her ears and straightens her bandana. He rebuttons the bottom of her shirt for her if it’s come undone or if she forgot. He straightens her sleeves gently, or cups her cheeks to kiss them, or pulls her back into his arms when they’re sitting on the couch, because why would he sit alone when she is there next to him and not wrapped in his embrace? Why would he sleep in bed at night if not to curve around her, reassuring, constant; why would he leave the house, with or without her, and not kiss her cheek or the corner of her mouth as she steps just over the threshold? 

He’s shy about it sometimes and can’t decide if he hates that or prefers it, because she teases him mercilessly, before her face softens and she mutters one of his nicknames under her breath like she’s embarrassed too, reaches to touch his cheek, kisses him long and slow before she complains cheerfully of the way his beard scratches her chin (and it does; it leaves tiny faint red marks on her chin where it brushes and though they disappear fast he rather likes them, almost reminiscent of red marks he leaves in other places, far more purposeful, far more affecting long after their inception. 

Sometimes he will add a small note to the end of her endless lists - Tess makes a lot of them, after all. He’ll find the nearest pencil and scribble it on quick, think nothing of it;  _ love you _ ,  _ you look beautiful. Morning Tessa.  _ Uses her full name because it feels intimate on paper and he wants her to pick it up and have to hide a smile. He doesn’t know where they go, those lists; he used to put them in his pack and read them sometimes if he was away from home longer than a day, and he does not know that she does the same, shaking her head and thinking about how messy that old man’s handwriting is. 

Once they went out to the patch of wildflowers beyond the garden plot and Ellie picked several to stick into his beard, and to put in Tess’ bandana to make a flower crown, and then she dubbed them king and queen, and he thinks they felt like a family. 

She always presses closer into his kisses, nuzzles her cheek gently against his and feels the scratch of his beard warm and familiar against her skin; she’ll squeeze his hand where it snakes round her waist or let her legs flop over his while they sit on the couch. Once, Ellie put on a play for them; she played the dragon, the fearless warrior, the princess, the sea monster, the fairy godmother, and the king all at once. There was great depth of acting and the best part was the flyers they each received, telling all about the cast. (ELLIE, ELLIE, AND ELLIE were frequent players, apparently.) There were special thanks (SPESHAL THANKZ) at the very end.

When they go to sleep at night sometimes Ellie has to come and join them; sometimes she times it badly and they’re in the middle of a sparring match, a round of wrestling, and she has to come back a bit later, but other times she catches them in the middle of deep and dreamless sleep, clambers over them to snuggle in between, pressed close between a hug, and they wake with a squirmy, elbowy little human lying between them, mumbling and babbling in her sleep, waking them with arms flopped over their faces and gentle little kicks. Tess likes those mornings; they’re warm and sunny, or rainy, overcast and grey; cold or blindingly hot, and she lies back against the pillows with Ellie snuggled on top of her, and Joel gets up to make them breakfast. They all eat in bed and sometimes Ellie gets crumbs in the sheets; but that's okay because she loves cleaning up her messes as much as making them.   


\--------

It’s Joel’s idea to let her go Outside. That in itself is surprising to her, but when he shows her what he’s made Tess feels warmth blooming in her chest, soft and vulnerable, and she squeezes his hand and says yeah, that’d be a good idea. 

It’s outside the east wall, which is barely maintained any more; they wander enough into the forest that they can’t see it any more, between old houses that are being reclaimed by nature, the trees growing high up into the roofs, the canopy of trees filtering the sunlight into dappled blots on the tall grass. It’s past a patch of wildflowers, in soft lilacs and creamy white petals, and then it turns into a small plot of tilled black earth, left undisturbed for twenty years, the green sprouts just beginning to peek through the soil. 

Ellie’s first job is to plant an acorn.

She looks at it skeptically, holds the smooth little nut in the palm of her hand and says “c’mon, will this  _ really  _ be a tree?”

“Swear it,” he tells her, stacking a pile of salvage wood to chop later for fires. She turns to him, hands on her hips, regarding him critically. 

“Yeah? Well, if it’s really a seed then why’s it so huge? Why do squirrels eat them?”

He pauses. It’s been a long time since he’s had to answer questions like this. “Well...’s a big seed to grow a big tree. Y’see all these around here? Those all started out as acorns.”

“Hm.” She runs her fingers over the smooth surface of it. “How long does it take? A year?”

“Be about four or five before you get a sapling,” he says, taking the axe from the old stump he uses for chopping wood. 

“ _ Four or five? _ ” she repeats incredulously. “But I’ll be...I’ll be...almost twelve by then. Or  _ thirteen. _ ”

She chews her lip, stares down at the nut, and then she drops to her knees, begins to push aside the soil near the stump, her hands dirtying quickly - “here,” he says, “y’gotta put it somewhere so it’s got space to grow. Somewhere like the grass over there.”

Ellie pouts, cradling the nut in her small hands. “But what if it gets scared or - lonely when it’s growing? Then it won’t have a tree friend.”

“Ellie,” Joel says, shaking his head mildly. “Trees don’t need friends -”

“Yeah they do,” she insists. “Everyone needs friends, even - even the rats in the wharf and the cork-roaches and - and the dumb ugly birds that shout all the time.” She pets the acorn gently, squinting at Joel. “Everyone needs friends.”

The man smothers a groan. “Baby, 's gonna just fight with his tree friend if you put ‘em together. They’re gonna need lots of water and sunlight and food from the dirt, and they won’t get enough if you put ‘em together.” He pries the nut from her hand gently, and leads her to a small patch of grass. 

“Here.” He lets her dig the hole and plant the nut; solemn and quite sulky, and then he rummages for a piece of cardboard and charcoal from his bag. He puts them in her hands. “Put your name down and stake your claim on the nut, mm? That way we’ll know which one you planted and we’ll come by and check on ‘im. So he ain’t lonely.”

“'s a girl,” she tells him, and scribbles eagerly on the patch of cardboard. When she’s done she has fingers smudged in charcoal and streaks on her face, but Ellie props the little card against a small rock and steps back, reaching up for Joel’s hand.

When he reads her little scrawl, he can’t help but smile too. 

_ ELLie anD JOLE tREE  _

“I’m gonna call her Lily,” she says, and he tells her it’s a lovely name as he wipes the smear of dirt and charcoal off her face.


	6. revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie fights off a bully

“Hey! Ellie!”

She looks up from where she’s been driving the toy car that Joel made her; it has real nice, spinny wheels with treads made from milk bottlecaps, and the doors even open and close, polished scrap metal. Ellie likes to make it ramps out of cardboard so that it can jump over the sidewalk cracks, and she likes to take her chalk (precious to her) and trace road outlines onto the concrete. She turns instantly to check at her balcony, but Tess must have gone inside; sometimes she sits on the folding chairs out there and she and Ellie yell-talk to each other. Once they made a pulley and Ellie used it to deliver small found objects as presents; other times Tess has sent down food for lunch. Ellie wanted to use it as a zipline, but Tess said that would be a bad idea. 

They’re just as she remembers - lots taller than her, bigger, better fed; they’d always told her that she was really good at sneaking food, and that she was the best at getting into houses and apartments ‘cause she was so tiny. There had always been  _ promises  _ of giving her more; but she doesn’t remember ever getting what they said she would.

“C’mere!” They’re down the alleyway, shrouded in the shade; she chances a look up at the balcony, and then she sets her car aside, clutching yellow chalk stick in her hand still, and hops down the alleyway. “Where’ve you been, Ellie?”

His name is Ace, and he was the bossiest one; but he always told Ellie that someday she’d make a really great leader, that she was smart and a lot more mature than the other kids, so even though he never remembered to give her much of the food, she had looked up to him. She digs the heel of her sneaker into the ground and puts the chalk behind her back, but before she can answer, he reaches behind her and grabs the yellow chalk-stick away.

“What is it?” he asks, and she says ‘chalk’ in a very small voice; she’s frightened that they’ll be angry she left, and sure enough, Ace leans against the brick of the alleyway, fiddling with the chalk in his hands.

“So why’d you leave?” he asks her. “You wanted to go screw around with baby toys in courtyards ‘stead of get good food and shit with us?”

“No,” she scowls, “gimme my chalk back. I was always hungry, and cold and stuff, and now I’m not.” She juts her chin out, attempts to look as tall as Ace, and the kids hanging back in the alley snicker unpleasantly. She decides to lunge for the chalk; she’s seen Ace fight before, and beat up the kids who mouth off at him, but she thinks she could take him; Tess told her that one time that if anyone ever tries to pick her up and take her away, she’s to jam her elbow wherever she can reach, and bite and kick and scratch, and scream as loud as she can, and Ellie thinks she can do that, but even if she can, how is she ever gonna stand a chance unless she can practice somehow?

Unfortunately she’s nowhere near as tall as him, so all he has to do is hold the chalk aloft, while the kids lingering in the shadows laugh, jeer, almost, and she starts to jump, but then she stops, glares at him. “What?” he says, grinning. “C’mon, Ellie. Why don’t you come back to the docks with us? There’s an old drunk guy who’s always hanging around down there. ‘s really easy to pickpocket him, and last time we stole his beer - funny as hell, ‘cause he went all crazy, looking for us, but we were in the shipping container. You’d be real good at it,” he tells her, like he’s giving her a compliment; “I bet you could get it from him every day. You’re good at that kinda thing.”

“I don’t -  _ need  _ to steal from him,” she huffs, glowering as angrily as she can, concentrating hard on making her stare so angry that she scares Ace until he runs away. She thinks about it before she says it, but then in an instant decides  _ y’know, I’m just gonna say it!  _ because she feels like taking a big risk, and so she snarls as menacingly as she can “I - I got a mama and daddy now, they give me food and stuff.”

Ace’s smile fades away; he narrows his eyes. “Yeah? You sure your mama and daddy don’t just need someone good at gettin’ them money, food, you think they wanna  _ keep _ you?” 

“Yeah,” she growls, and she feels ready to fight him for being so mean to Joel and Tess - to her mama and daddy. 

“We’re your friends, Ellie,” he tells her, his voice sharp, mean, “nobody else cares what happens to you - “

She jumps at him, starts to punch every inch she can reach; she claws at his arms and kicks hard when he tries to push her off him, and she suddenly feels the urge to sneeze, stops punching him to touch her nose, and comes away with a fingertip painted in yellow dust.

He crunches the rest of it in his hand.

She stumbles back towards the wall and watches as it slips between his fingers like sand, makes a little sprinkly yellow pile in the shade of the buildings around them, and feels her lip wobble; she bites it angrily. It won’t scare him if she cries.

She hears a door bang, slammed open instead of shut; footsteps, and then she sees her mama at the entrance to the alleyway, looking flustered and frightened, and Tess immediately puts herself between Ellie and Ace, the girl immediately wrapping both arms around Tess’ wrist, mashing her face into the back of her shirt.

“What the  _ hell  _ are you doing?” she spits, and her voice is hard, ferocious, in a way that Ellie’s never heard it be. “Who do you think you are, you little shithead?”

“Calm down, lady - “ he says, looking down the alleyway, but his gang has scattered; his brow furrows, confused, as he turns back to Tess, who is practically foaming at the mouth, her eyes cold and the color high in her cheeks. “It’s not like I hurt her. She’s just a little street rat! She attacked  _ me  _ \- “

Tess’ hand is at the collar of his shirt and she pushes him hard against the brick wall - “you listen here and you listen good. My kid is not your friend, and you are not hers, and you are never to speak to her or come here again, ever. You think you’re hot shit pickpocketing down at the docks? I  _ run  _ the fucking  _ black market _ ,” she spits, “everyone you’ve ever hidden from down alleyways like this one works for  _ me, _ everyone you’ve ever made sure not to steal from owes  _ me  _ a favor, I got eyes and ears all over this city, and hey - I don’t give a shit if you want to play kids’ games stealing wallets and booze, but you don’t  _ fuck  _ with my daughter or I’ll look the other way next time someone I know has you in a tight spot between a gun and a wall.”

She straightens, relinquishes him; her face is oddly smooth, calm, and it unsettles him even more as he starts to sidestep down the alleyway. “I think you know who I am,” she says, her voice low and even, “don’t you? The next time you’re down by the wharf and you get scared of the guys stowing pistols and assault rifles in the barrels, you remember they work for me, and you say hi, okay? Tell them you know Tess.” His eyes go wide, and he starts to move faster; “or my partner, Joel - betcha you’ve heard of him.”

She grins, a sly, catlike thing, dangerous and alluring, and he scatters, spins around the corner where his gang fled long ago. Tess takes a breath; she turns then, puts her hands on Ellie’s shoulders, kneels down.

“Now. Ellie girl. You okay? He hurt you?” and all of a sudden her face is soft and anxious, as she touches Ellie’s cheek, as she feels a stabbing sensation in her chest when Ellie’s face crumples and small hands come up to cover her face. “Come here, sweetheart - “ and the girl flops sobbing over her shoulder, curling into her arms, feeling very small as she’s hugged tight and close.

“H-he broke my - my chalk,” she wails into Tess’ shoulder, and Tess strokes her hair, soothes and hums, “don’t worry, don’t worry hon, we’ll get you some new colors, okay? It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay - “

“I t - told him my mama and daddy g-gave me food an’ - an’ he said they di-dn’t want m-me - “

“Ellie, Ellie you know that isn’t true -" she clings as tight to Ellie almost as tightly as Ellie clings to her, presses her lips together and looks up at the top of the buildings in the hopes it’ll keep tears from falling.

“I’m s-sorry I c-called you mama and daddy -”

This one stops her, and Tess half-collapses herself, leans back against the other wall as Ellie flops gently into her lap, and she wipes her eyes hard with the heel of her hand. “We are your mama and daddy, Ellie, you might as well call us that, huh? B-aby girl,” she chokes, bends to kiss her hair. She is acutely aware of the vulnerability in the words that Ellie says, which is bullshit, anyways, what kid should ever have to put on a façade of strength to survive? but she feels the weight of them, the trust implicit behind them, and in that moment Tess feels nothing more than an intense desire to protect - to make it so that Ellie knows how okay it is that she calls her mama, so that she knows that she can say these things, so that she knows - 

“I love you, hon, come here,” Tess whispers, and Ellie turns into a small koala bear, clinging and crying very quietly now, face pressed into Tess’ shoulder as she carries the girl upstairs, into the apartment, sets her up with some pillows on the floor and tea in her special cup and a giant piece of paper, the biggest, best one she has, and Tess teaches her how to draw with charcoal.

Just as she wishes someone had done for her when she was a little girl, she holds her hand over Ellie’s over the stub of black, and guides her hand to draw a picture of the flower pattern on the teacup; she kisses Ellie’s head and squeezes her shoulders for the affection she had ached quietly for, she, almost desperately, places three extra strawberries on the saucer of the cup because she knows they are Ellie’s favorite, and listens intently and sincerely to each and every small, meandering story that comes up over the course of an hour, and says with utter seriousness that Ellie can hold her own in a fight. 

(She can’t help but feel a little shitty about it; a little bit like even when she’s doing something good it’s for herself, to fulfill some small, sad part of herself sitting alone drawing through paper because she pressed too hard, to help unlock the door into somewhere better when she sat hiding in the closet because he was drunk again and the linen closet had a lock)

When Joel gets home, she tells him a little loudly what she and Ellie had agreed to say: Ellie got in a fight and beat up a thirteen-year-old because the kid talked bad about her mama and daddy. Privately, once the small beaming burrito on the floor has passed out on her unused paper for a catnap pre-dinner, Tess catches him at the counter and presses close to him and murmurs that they should see if there’s a way they can get some chalk, prior to explaining precisely what occurred in the alleyway.

(When she wakes Joel says  _ Ellie, y’wanna help out with dinner? I’ll show you how to cut carrots,  _ and she drags a crate over to stand on.)

It’s not perfect, with slightly uneven carrot chunks, but it is a good dinner. He puts his hand over hers and shows her how to rock the knife gently, and as he looks down at the small swath of blue bandanna that Ellie likes to keep tied over her hair, he feels a very specific radiation of feeling down to the tips of his fingers, full of nostalgia and pain and fear, thinking, wondering how many more times she’ll have to cry for things like broken chalk or worse, the utter terror that, in a world like this, it so hard for even them to be safe.

“Careful there. Keep it like this, see?” he pulls his knuckles in and tucks his fingertips under “so the knife doesn’t cut you. There you go, good job.” She looks up at him, beams, and he clears his throat, looks away for a minute only to look at Tess making a large calendar for the month.

Her eyes are shining too, threatening to spill, and she nods at the cutting board, “those look pretty good, Ellie, d’you think you’re gonna take over the cooking?”

Ellie clears her throat, rather purposefully, and pauses chopping, relinquishing the knife she shares with Joel to begin arranging her carrot slices in miniature towers. “Uh - well, I still think Daddy’s better at it,” she says, pressing her lips together almost anxiously and letting her eyes flicker up to Joel, like a request for approval, like a plea, before sorting her carrots again.

“I dunno,” he says gruffly, barely managing the words; they feel foreign in his mouth, and he’s not sure he has the fine motor coordination right now to be helping her handle a knife. “I - I think you’re pretty much ready to be head chef.”

He squeezes her shoulder, presses a kiss atop the bandanna almost frantically.

That night he will tuck Ellie in to the bed she makes each evening on the couch; for a little while, they will discuss her having a real bed of her own, maybe in the spare room of the apartment, that he will make out of anything she likes and carve something into the headboard for her [perhaps the branches of a tree?]. And he hugs her extra tightly and kisses her forehead for good nights, and he stumbles painfully over the words, and before he turns the light off, as he stands in the doorway to his and Tess’ bedroom, he says “Heard you fought real good today, Ellie. Now, don’t go gettin’ into any more fights, but - from what I hear you’re pretty tough.” He clears his throat. “Makes me real proud to be your daddy.” and he sends the words off into the room, feels his heart in his throat wondering both how she will react and how utterly  _ strange  _ it is to say them, to retake this identity, which he’s always had, perhaps, really, lying dormant under layers of stone for many, many years.

Sarah would be twenty-five years old this year.

“I won’t get into fights,” replies a small voice from the couch. “‘less - ‘less they say somethin’ bad about you.”

(Tess thinks privately, from her place between the sheets, that neither of them are very good at expression of emotions, in between her heart melting at an alarming rate.)

That night she leans on his shoulder and says  _ please tell me I’m not just doin’ this for me.  _ and he tells her that that is ridiculous; that he has seen the way she is with Ellie, that there are moments where it is impossible for her to be feeling anything but the pure, selfless kind of parental love that he says he should know, he’s felt it.

Tess curls into his arms and says  _ I’m cold  _ and then she says, as if it is the natural followup to such a statement,  _ when I was her age I ran away from home and got lost in the neighbor’s cornfield, and the farmer’s wife gave me pie and ice cream and then she went to drive me back home, and I started crying and screaming and I wouldn’t get out of the car, and my mama came and got me; and then the next month, my mama left, and it was just me.  _

_ You aren’t doin’ it for you,  _ he tells her, kisses her temple.  _ You gotta give yourself some credit, Tess. Considerin’ everythin’ -  _ and he would like to tell her how, in the strangest way, she’s the best person he’s ever met. That, considering her ability to instill fear into any human being in the world in less than five minutes, she is uncommonly warm and accepting and loves fiercer than anyone, 

but because she kisses him, he leaves it at considering, kisses her for a long, long time,  _ you’re a damn good mother to her,  _ he tells her;  _ oh come on, you’re her favorite,  _ she grins, elbowing him gently,  _ should’ve heard her before you got home, s’all “D’you think it’s okay if I call him Daddy? When should I say it? Will you help me draw a picture of us choppin’ wood and - and building a car?” that’s what she said… _


	7. insurgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the QZ has rules, too.

When they kick open the door, her first thought is ‘but we didn’t tell anyone’; then, that someone must have ratted on them,sold them out, but really, all it would’ve taken was for a guard to see her with them while they walked to get rations.

There’s a lot of  _ child in your custody  _ and  _ obligation  _ and  _ best interests  _ being said (well, almost shouted at her); and Ellie is peering out from behind the couch, her eyes narrow and mistrusting of the men in riot gear who just kicked in her doorway.

“There’s no reason to get so upset, sir - “

“Upset?” Joel growls, his eyes hot, vicious, curling his lip distastefully at the man in front of him. His voice is low and dangerous, and he feels a hatred the likes of which he’s never known emanating from deep in his chest. “ _ Upset _ ? You’re tryin’ to take my kid, ‘course I’m upset -”

“There are no registered birth records for a child belonging to you or the lady, sir; she is a ward of the state, making the government her legal guardian.”

Joel hears a familiar click; there are assault rifles in his home, pointed at his Tess and jabbing at his back, and Ellie is cowering behind the couch. “You watch what you’re sayin’,” he rumbles, but the rifle pokes him again, and his eyes dart to Ellie, who curls in on herself when one of the men comes to stand over her.

“She’s required to be in school;” Joel hates the mask, despises being unable to meet someone’s eyes head-on. “Get an education and contribute to the safety of the -”

“She won’t be contributing to  _ shit _ ,” Tess spits, “because those military schools are fronts for brainwashing kids into mercenaries.”

The man sighs, and as soon as he does Joel feels a cold draft of dread at his back; he wants to reach for her, to gather the two of them in his arms and take them to safety. “Tess - “ he breathes, his arm outstretched, fingers reaching, but then - 

“No!” Ellie whimpers, tripping a little as she runs across the room from behind the couch; she falls almost onto Tess’ leg, grips tight and becomes a little koala bear, peering up at the woman desperately. “I d-don’t wanna go - “

“Hey now,” says the soldier nearest them. “Let go -” 

He hits with the butt of his rifle, smacks it hard against Tess’ cheek, and she turns, spits blood from where she bit down too hard on her lip. She starts to reach back, grab for the man’s wrist and duck out of his reach, but this time the soldier’s boot lands too hard on her other leg, and Tess lets out a soft yelp of pain. Ellie clings to her still, and so the soldier bends, begins to pry Ellie away, and seeing someone put their hands on Ellie gives Joel a reaction he’s never felt in himself before, not since - 

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her,” he snarls, starts across the room, but there’s a hard kick to his shin that stings like hell, an elbow coming down hard on his back between his shoulderblades. He gasps from the floor, the wind knocked out of him, pulls his head up just in time to watch the butt of a gun jam hard at Tess’ ribs, bring her to her knees while she clings desperately to Ellie. It tears at him; there’s a thick, heavy boot resting on his forearm, and another on his right wrist, and he pushes mightily against them, but christ, the sounds Ellie’s making -

“No,” she’s screaming, “no! no, no, get off me,” flailing her small arms with hands clenched into fists, and Tess is grabbing for her, her hands slipping from Ellie’s shirt.

“Let her go, let her fucking go,” she chokes, gasping for air, flailing her arms out, kicking desperately; “please d-don’t take her,  _ please _ ,” but there’s a hard kick to her side and she actually slides across the fucking floor, hit against the side of the couch and curling in on herself desperately, “don’t take her, please don’t take her she-’s ours, please -” she chokes, the bruise blooming on her cheek where the gun hit her and blood in a bright stripe on her lip; her eyes are clouded with a mixture of pain and something even deeper, more than the way her ribs ache and her cheek smarts and burns. There’s a fire in the pit of her stomach, an anger deeper than the hurt she feels, and buried deep beneath - fear.

Fear, desperation; she is frightened, lying on the floor there watching her little daughter being held and having her arms pinned to her sides by a guard who is at least three times her size. She is terrified, there are images in her head of Ellie being dragged away from her, sent to who knows where never to be seen again, fuck the way she’s crying now -

“Don’t take her, don’t take her  _ please _ ,” she sobs, and with every curl of her body and ripple of her muscles she feels uncomfortably tight around her torso, a stabbing pain just below her heart.

Ellie kicks, too, flaps her little fists into the face of the guard who holds her - “shut - fuck up, kid - “ and she gets a slap, enough to subdue her into being picked up, and Ellie screams  _ Joel - Daddy?  _ and sobs, her face wet with tears and flushed deep pink, and something inside of him snaps.

He roars, grabs at the ankle and twists his arm around, ignores the scraping of the boot on his skin, twists hard until the man wobbles and then kicks out, kicks hard at the back of the locked knee. There is a small snapping sound and the man groans, his gun falling just askew enough for Joel to arch and grab with his one free hand, point the assault rifle in a stalemate down the barrel of the one facing back at him.

And then Tess has grabbed onto the man holding Ellie; wrapped her arms over his, fighting with him. He relinquishes his hold on the girl, lets her fall at his feet where she starts trying to hit every inch of him she can reach. “Ellie, stop -” Tess grunts, “g-onna get hurt, stop -” and she grabs an arm, twists it behind the man’s back.

He spins; something clicks. Tess struggles, fights with him, tries to twist harder and get around him, get behind him. 

There’s a yelp; a scream. Tess slams her elbow down hard between his shoulderblades, and hard at the back of his head, and he slumps onto the ground, arm outstretched.

And she stumbles back, against the couch, leans there; her hand pressed tight to her side.

She pulls it away; her hand is spattered with blood. Tess peers confusedly at it, then at the hole in her shirt, the puncture mark, and lets out a squeak of pain, clamps her hand tight over the wound again. Ellie sobs, screams, runs to Tess and starts to let her hands flail slightly over Tess’, fluttering around her legs, and Tess tries to bend to soothe her - “h-hon, no, n-no ‘s - ‘s okay - “ she chokes, but she knows she’s not doing a very good job convincing, not with the winces of pain and the small dark stain on the fabric of her shirt. 

“S-stop h-hurting them,” Ellie wails to the soldiers, “M-ama - “

“Baby, baby, m’okay,” Tess squeaks, reaching to touch Ellie’s hair with her clean hand, “‘m o-kay -”

“Tess -” there’s a strange dissonance in his chest; a numbing, trembling pain that pinches over his heart, his fingertips. He sees blood, deep and bright and smeared over her shirt, her hands, Ellie’s small ones pressing frantically at her side. It comes to him like a blow to the head - small, thin hands, warm and sticky with precious red, pressing uselessly on her stomach -

She has never seen him like he is now, slamming the assault rifle into the man’s neck, hard, until he’s on his back choking for air, “you get the  _ fuck  _ outta my house,” he roars, “or I swear to god I will string you up like a goddamn pig, you don’t -  _ touch - her - _ ” and he jabs the gun into the man’s neck again, kicks, hard, where he had been kicked.

The one with the limp, with the fucked up leg - “you don’t ever fuckin’ touch my baby again,” Joel snarls, pointing the gun at his face, jabbing hard at his forehead; “you never come round here again, y’hear? Never.”

He nods, and tries to edge onto his good leg, and Joel keeps the gun trained on him.

“Tessa,” he says, trying to keep his breath steady; his stomach aches bad and his arms are rubbed raw by the hard treads of the boots. “Tessa, you - you okay? H-how bad -?”

“N-ot bad,” she says, but it’s strained and weak, and Ellie clings to her legs and chokes on a sob. The blood is spreading over her shirt - one of her favorites, her last good one, sullied. 

Joel chances a glimpse at her, paces around the soldier, gun steady as his eyes slide to her. There’s a subtle shift, almost a flicker across his face; his heart catches in his throat. “Will you - will you get Ellie into our room?”

Tess nods, wordless, and reaches down for Ellie’s hand, but the girl is so terrified that she can only shake her head, sobbing into Tess’ knee. So Tess takes her hand, gently, and starts to walk on legs that seem close to crumbling, but she steels herself, moves with slow, heavy steps with Ellie grabbing tight to her leg, “c-come on, sweetheart,” she says, her breath shallow. “’s okay. Ellie - Ellie, come on, let’s go in here.” 

She clicks the door open, and as soon as they’re in the soft, quiet darkness of Joel and Tess’ room Ellie cries harder. “Calm down,” Tess rasps, sinking to her knees, “oh, hon, you’re gonna hyperventilate. C’mere.” and Ellie flops onto her shoulder, holding on just a little tight - “h-h-he hurt youuu,” she sobs, “an’ an’ - he h-hurt Daddy -” she hiccups. Tess presses hard on the wound, trying her best to ignore it even though her eyes water and she can feel the hot stickiness of blood on her fingers. Quick and sharp like the stab of a needle-vaccine, but bigger, sharper, digging hard into the softness of her skin. Every breath smarts.

Tess bites her lip.

It’s not the worst of her wounds, it’s not the hardest she’s been hit, nor will it leave the worst bruises. But it’s the first one Ellie’s seen.

“Ellie? Ellie girl, ‘m okay. Daddy’s okay.” She strokes Ellie’s hair, feels the hot tears and the block in her throat; “they’re not gonna take you away. We promise you that, baby girl, you’re not gonna be taken away.”

“B-but - m-made you bleed - “ she sobs, and Tess squishes her as tight as she can with the way she hurts, cuddles her close.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” she pleads, “we’re okay, I promise,” even as she winces and holds back a pained, deep sound when Ellie bumps her hand gently, presses down on the wound, and she clenches her fingers together tightly.She feels the adrenaline buzzing in her ears, fading in and out of her vision; she’s never been squeamish around blood, but blood on her daughter’s hands -

She cups Ellie’s cheek, frowns deeply at the small cut across it, the bloom of a bruise fresh and dark on her innocent face. “Oh, baby girl,” she moans, chest tightening in shame and hurt and anger. “‘m sorry -”

The sound of the bedroom door makes Ellie scream, curl around Tess and cling to her so tight with her small, bony hands, trembling, but Tess leans back against the side of the bed weakly, skin cool and damp. 

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him, locks it tight before he drops to his knees by them, takes them into his arms and crushes them to his chest so tight. Ellie wails and hiccups into his shoulder, bleary-eyed and hysterical as he strokes her hair with shaking hands. “S’-alright, baby girl, s’okay,” he soothes her, voice thick and broken. His own eyes fill; he stares down at Tess’ pale face, cups her cheek worriedly. “Tessa -”

“‘m okay,” she murmurs, reaches to slip her hand through his, but Joel pulls back, the warmth of her blood slipping over their fingers. 

“C’mere, c’mere -” he lifts Ellie into their bed, wraps her in as many layers to keep her safe, bundles her in a burrito as she sniffles and mewls and weeps. He eases Tess onto the bed beside her, lifts her bridal style up, mindful of the wound, but uncaring at the way her blood mattes against his own clothes; the ones already stained in blood. “We’re gonna get you fixed right up, Tess, y’gonna be just fine.”

Tess points for the door. “The door’s -”

“I fixed it, I’ll fix it,” he promises her. He’d shoved the shelving unit over the door, barricaded it until he can get to putting up a proper door, a big heavy door with locks and bolts. For now he trusts that the soldiers won’t be stupid enough to try again. 

He stitches her wound for her, makes Ellie turn away from them until he’s done, and Tess is wrapped with a thick strip of white gauze around her middle, lying back on the pillows with her tank top rolled up to her breasts. The bruises pepper dark and yellowing over her ribs, her cheek bloodied and marred, but she presses her head back against the pillows and smiles soothingly at Ellie, lets the little girl huddle to her side. 

His hands hover over her skin, over the bruises on her ribs, the soft ridges of the bones there, places he has stroked, kissed reverently, where his hands have squeezed and held. And the soft, warm smile on her face, the kiss she presses to Ellie’s forehead; the redness on the girl’s cheek and the heat that seems to radiate from it. He wishes the bandages were not on Tess’ skin; he wishes Ellie was laughing, not crying, how badly he wants to tuck them into bed and curl around them, take their injuries from them willingly. Stab him a thousand times, her, not once; slaps and punches and kicks, these things should never be for them. Never.

His arms span over them, squish them to him gently; the best protection he can give, but they curve into his arms, and he thinks for a moment that maybe, it’s enough.


	8. outside

“Whoaaaa…”

Joel lifts her up through the tunnel entrance and sets her securely on her feet; Ellie is wearing her boots today, just in case of leftover puddles from last night’s fall thunderstorm. Then he offers an arm to Tess, who pulls herself up, and then together they replace the door over the tunnel’s mouth. 

Ellie runs in a wide, shaky oval round the checkerboard floor, exclaiming each time she catches sight of a new poster, of even the napkin dispensers. Outside, the blown-out wall gives way to the arching trees and the sunken street, all coated in a layer of vibrant, flaming leaves; Joel takes off his pack and sets it on one of the booth tables, starts setting up the tin-can stove to boil water while Tess takes leaves for kindling. “What  _ is  _ this place?” Ellie asks, her voice almost too enthused as she watches the faded red and white tiles under her feet, peers up at the posters advertising old-time soda fountain drinks and burgers and fries. “What’s all that? What does it say?”

Tess grins, crumples the handful of leaves into the bottom of the tin-can stove. “‘s a diner - a restaurant,” and, when Ellie still looks a little confused, she amends: “a place people used to go to eat.”

Ellie’s brow furrows. “Why would people go here to eat? Why wouldn’t they...play...play hide and seek or somethin’? Or climb on the counter? Or - or stack up these things -” she climbs onto the only remaining barstool and begins to swivel around on the rusty cushion “- and make a giant fort?”

“Well,” Joel says, reaching for matches from the innermost backpack pocket, “some restaurants were more fancy, y’know? You’d get real dressed up to go to ‘em, and they had real expensive food; probably wouldn’t ‘a liked it if you made a fort inside.”

“Oh.” Ellie leans on the booth table, flopping her arms over the surface and watching as the fire starts inside of the tin can. “Did you guys ever go eat at one? A real fancy one, I mean?” She looks between Joel and Tess, expectant; and Tess catches his eye and grins. 

“Well, we didn’t have much time for fancy restaurants,” Tess says, a spark in her eye. Ellie nods, adopting a look of faux understanding, and then she begins to pace up and down the row of booths, staring critically at the posters. 

“Is that something you  _ drink? _ ” she says incredulously, pointing at an illustration of a milkshake - strawberry, topped with whipped cream, sprinkles, a dulled red cherry with a painted white highlight. The perky red-white straw peeks out from the mountain of whipped cream, and Ellie wrinkles her nose.

“That,” Tess says, an air of deep longing in her voice, “is a milkshake. ‘s not the flavor I would’ve picked - was always more of a chocolate fan - but yes, hon, you’re meant to drink it.”

“What’s it taste like?”

Tess pauses, stares at the faded image on the wall and presses her lips together. When she speaks her own voice sounds very far away, probably far away with the version of her who would’ve killed for dark chocolate instead of guns and ration cards.

“Sweet. It’s sweet.” And then, amended, “was sweet.”

“I wish I could try one,” Ellie says, leaning back against Tess, whose arms go to her shoulders immediately.

“We’ll get you somethin’ sweet, baby girl,” Joel adds, “I don’t know what just yet, but we will, find you somethin’ good.”

“I haven’t tasted ‘sweet’,” Ellie says, climbing into the booth to watch the water bubble, and Joel adds a handful of dry pasta, scrounged together from a couple weeks’ worth of rations. “Is it liiiike...pasta?”

“Sweet?” His brow furrows, and he sticks one of their forks into the bowl to check how done the pasta is. “Not exactly. ‘s…” he sighs, trying to think of a way to describe the taste of a candy bar to a kid who’s never had one. 

“It hurts your teeth sometimes,” Tess says, sliding into the booth beside Ellie; the girl flops back onto her lap, nearly bangs her head on the table ( _ careful  _ they both chide her). Ellie peers up at her - “that doesn’t sound very nice.”

“You’ll know when you taste it,” Joel says, taking the pasta off the burner and adding a plate to help drain; he dumps the water into the leaves outside and brings the bowl of hot little spirals back in, stirs in a precious pat of butter and adds just a few leaves of basil from the garden. Someday they’ll make pesto, if they can ever find ingredients other than their ration of cooking oil and the homegrown basil leaves, because they made the mistake of telling Ellie about that too - and for a kid born after the outbreak, she has quite the adventurous palette, especially as someone who’s likely grown up on canned corn and beans. One of her favorite activities is to think of everything she can and then pronounce it ‘eatable’ or not; she drew a big picture once of all the things she hoped to eat, including cake (a large pink circle), snails (Tess never should’ve told her about that; he’d said that next thing she’d be picking them off the pond rocks and tryin’ ‘em fresh), and lava (her catchall for spicy food). Joel promised her chilis in the garden patch next year. 

He hands Ellie her bowl of pasta and sits down beside Tess, stretching his arm across the back of the booth. “‘s it good?” he inquires, and Ellie hums contentedly as a response, cramming a forkful into her mouth. 

As they sit in the diner the sun begins to disappear behind thick, soft grey clouds, heavy with rain, good for the plants in the first leg of the harvest season. The rain is also good for business, because rations always seem to run low when the weather isn’t the best; everyone’s looking to buy cards, and increased market means increased danger, so there’s a spike in the gun trade, too. Tess finds it hard to reconcile, he knows she does; if it wasn’t such an inherent, almost natural part to them, he wonders if they’d be able to keep on going, with Ellie and all. She’s the only reliable seller in the business, and part of the reason they make enough in bartering every month is because of the threat she poses to any and all clients, should they fail to make their dues. (Hell, Joel’s a little frightened of her himself - he’s learnt not to leave her high and dry,  _ ever _ . At least one orgasm must be accomplished per session, and Tess does not take kindly to any interruption...although they, by some miracle, have yet to be disturbed by Ellie.)

But this is a rare interlude in between the hardness of the business, the ugly underbelly of humanity that it exposes. For this period of time, they allow themselves to relish the unique feeling of having both - of serving their kid a bowl of buttered noodles and relaxing in their diner for a small slice of afternoon and knowing that tonight they’ll take it in shifts to meet Bill on the outer wall, which is distinctly less welcoming than the diner’s window of soft orange and red.

“This is sooooo good,” Ellie says, scooping up the last few spiraly noodles with her fork, closing her eyes and humming. Tess’ mouth curves as she leans a little on Joel, and Ellie flops back down onto her lap. The girl almost never runs out of energy - she’s constantly up and ready to go...except for directly after meals. Pasta, rice, food of any kind; this has a soporific effect on Ellie, and sure enough she looks a little dozy. There’s a soft rumble of thunder outside, and Tess squints through the wall to see the clouds gathering thick in the sky.

“Should we get back, Ellie girl?” she asks, fluffing the little ponytail and thinking how if she can find some, new elastics that don’t break so easily would be good, too. (People are starting to get confused as to why Joel and Tess are shopping around for crayons, kids’ clothes around the size of a seven-year-old, and any picture books anyone might have. Nothing like one-half of the best team in the industry heading through the tunnels with a prized copy of  _ If You Give A Mouse A Cookie  _ under his arm after buying it for a box of bullets.)

“Don’t wanna be caught in the rain,” Joel says. They pack up, extinguishing their stove and rinsing the bowl in rainwater; Tess says it’s a good thing Ellie has her boots on, she might need them to stomp in puddles. 

There are so many things Ellie is tentative about still; she would eat herself sick if she had access to more food, they’re quite sure. She’s shy about taking hands, though she seems desperate for more touch, more affection. She doesn’t quite understand doing things like playing in puddles or drawing pictures, though she is adept at make-believe. (Often Tess sleeps on the couch with her, or she climbs into their bed, a small, quivering lump of blanket whimpering about a bad dream.)

Today they keep Ellie close as they walk through the tunnels, through the closed-off hallways. She walks between Joel and Tess, sheltered despite the strange looks from those who watch the doors; she doesn’t see the death glares given to them by Tess, and by the time they reach their apartment door Ellie is practically swaying on her feet from exhaustion, the excitement of a diner and a milkshake and a bowl of pasta enough to sap her energy.

Joel carries her to their bed and sets her against the pillows; she curls beneath the blankets and she’s out like a light, looking rather small in such a large swath of bed, a little curled nest of fleece around her.


	9. voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie is a good fake sleeper.

Last night she heard them yelling.

Contrary to what Joel and Tess might think, Ellie’s an adept fake sleeper; it’s a skill she’s honed over the years, because 1) nobody is going to beat up someone who’s asleep - what’d be the point of that? and 2) nobody will think you stole their wallet, full of ration cards and IDs they give to the grownups who sell them, if you’re just a little kid dozing in an alleyway. (How could you have done it? You were asleep.)

Sometimes when she’s pretending to be asleep, and Joel and Tess are trying to be quiet in the kitchen, she hears Tess talking about things she misses - like chocolate and something called McDonald’s, and Joel always says,  _ aw, hell, that ain’t real food.  _ Then he talks about how he misses oakruh (??) and fried chicken, and she hears Tess hit him gently and tell him he’s a walking stereotype, but it always sounds kinda  _ nice _ , like Tess is smiling when she says it. (Then kissing sounds start and Ellie puts her head under the pillow. She likes to sleep with her head beneath it anyways; it feels very secure and comfortable somehow.)

It’s because of this that the fight is so jarring.

See, usually when they fight (not fight with wrestling, but with words; wrestle fighting means they kind of yell and grunt a lot, and they get real hot and sweaty afterwards), they laugh afterwards, or even during the fight. But tonight when she listens, the fight doesn’t sound quite as fun. She catches little bits of conversation, and she rolls over, kneels wrapped in her blankies in front of the table and takes out her paper and crayons.

  1. (with a smiley face, it begins.) JOLe mad cuz TeS LeFT wIthoWT SEYiN sHE Wuz gowINE tu.



She bites her lip, listens hard again; sometimes it’s difficult to hear through their bedroom door. Ellie chooses a green crayon (she already used pink for Tess) and constructs the next item on her list.

  1. HAV 2 bee karfel.



She leans back against the couch, floofs her ponytail and waits, straining to hear. Her heart races; Ellie is used to hearing arguments, truly, and she’s ceased to be affected by them the way she once was - people get mad and yell and then they either make up, and sometimes, they shoot each other. She really hopes Joel and Tess don’t shoot each other, but she’s pretty sure they won’t. They might wrestle, though. She sits poised at her paper, waiting, crayon at the ready - cerulean this time, her favorite color out of the whole box.

But when she catches the next word - followed by a period of utter silence - Ellie stops, suddenly unable to continue. She feels hot, thick tears beading on her lower lashes, threatening to spill over; she isn’t aware of anything happening in the next room over, and finally through blurred vision she summons the strength to move her shaking hand clumsily across the page.

  1.  ELLIE.



Ellie turns around from her paper, then turns and looks back at it again, as if expecting it to have changed. Her lip wobbles. She flips the paper onto its blank side, realizing she has not put any smiley faces after the number one; then she turns back to the couch and buries her face in the bottom of the cushion, the warm musty scent filling her nose as she lets out a small, squeaky sob, quite muffled and barely heard even if someone were standing directly next to her. Then she rubs impatiently at her eyes - crying is not good, and she never likes to if she can help it. She puts together the pieces in her mind immediately - and then she wonders how she didn’t figure that out sooner. 

Clearly Joel and Tess are fighting because of her; it’s all down to her. They probably didn’t even want to keep her around - that’s why Joel didn’t like her at first, and Tess must have just felt like she had to. That’s what most of the grownups she’d known had said about her; that, in addition to being a little shit who didn’t know when to be quiet, nobody wanted her around; Ellie shakes her head, wondering why she was silly and thought that Joel and Tess might have wanted her. She burrows into her red t-shirt, the one they got for her; some part of her mind says  _ but would they have gotten you a fancy shirt if they didn’t want you? _

They probably thought they had to do that too, she reasons. Guilt engulfs her, and she stares at the pile of crayons, at the paper on the crate table, her knees pulled to her chest. How much they’ve given her; especially these crayons, and when Tess had sat and drawn with her. When, truly, they are fighting about her; when she is making them upset and probably like they’re going to shoot each other, they’re so mad and upset that she’s there. 

But they’re always so nice to each other, she thinks, desperate now, frantically organizing her crayons by color in a rainbow. And they’re always so nice to her; telling her that she’s smart, and that they’re glad she’s here and stuff but still it  _ must  _ be a matter of honor. They must be too nice to tell her the truth - the way they fight and yell about her at night, how could she not have put it together before?

She takes a shaky breath, smushes her eyes with her fists again. Ellie makes up her mind and chooses the grey crayon, least used because she thinks it is the ugliest, with no color to its name, not even cool and hard and dark like black, just a weird slushy mix of white and black together.  _ That is me. I am grey. I am this crayon.  _ She draws hard on the paper, for what feels like hours, until the sun is coming up and there are no noises at all, and after thinking hard and holding it up to the light, her list shining through the back, she takes a deep breath. 

JOLe and TeS.

I M soRe thAt u R FaitiN bcoz oF Me.

thAt iS Y I M RuNeN A WeY.

theN u wiL NoT Fait oR sHoT ecH uThR.

soRe ageN

LuV ELLIE

This is not the place for smiley numbers; she sniffles, hiccups and touches the waxy surface of the note. She had considered including some kind of ‘I’m Sorry’ drawing, perhaps of herself holding up a sign; although there are strange pains in her chest and her hands as she holds the note, and her eyes are bubbling over with tears again, she figures it’s probably just how things are supposed to happen; she doesn’t really have a mama and daddy, and she doesn’t want to make Joel and Tess be them. 

So she wraps herself in the blankies for comfort and waddles in her tight burrito to the bedroom door; she knocks, with some difficulty, after extricating an arm from the blankets, and after two rounds of small insistent knocks, Tess answers the door.

“Huh?” Her hair is sticking up on end and her eyes are bleary; she wipes them, stares down at Ellie’s serious little face, at the note held aloft. “‘s this, Ellie girl?” She reaches down to ruffle Ellie’s messy ponytail, her brow furrowing slightly when the girl squirms away and points at the note, and then Tess begins to read, her lips mouthing the words as she does so. 

“Ellie -”

“I’m running away,” she says stoutly, gripping the blankies tightly.

“Ellie -” Tess doesn’t seem to know what to say to her; her hand is covering her mouth and her eyes are full of tears, and Ellie shakes her head.

“See?” she says, “I’m - I’m making you upset.” She doesn’t like how her voice whines and sounds kind of high pitched and shaky. “Th-that’s why I gotta go.” 

Tess bends down to her knees - Ellie both likes that and doesn’t like it, ‘cause it means Tess can look her right in the eyes, but it also makes her feel very short. “Ellie - “ She reaches for Ellie’s hand, but Ellie pulls it away and stands with them behind her back, the blanket flopping around her ankles. They stand and look at each other for a little while; Tess looks very upset, that’s true, and she’s holding Ellie’s note close, and there are tears on her cheeks and she keeps trying to reach for Ellie. This seems strange, because Tess is supposed to nod and act like she is sorry and then send Ellie off, and it’s all supposed to be done by now, because that’s how it’s always worked before. 

“‘m c-cold,” Ellie whimpers then, grabbing for her blankies, but she still doesn’t let Tess pull her into her arms like Tess is trying to do, opening them tentatively, and then Tess just leans on the door frame and her legs kind of slip out from under her and her face crumples up.

This shocks Ellie too much for her to start crying, too. She’s only ever seen Tess be very, very ferocious, like the lions and tigers she drew for Ellie on the paper; or sometimes very angry; or other times laughing, and teasing Joel, and punching him gently with love. “Ellie, Ellie we don’t - want you to go away,” she says, her voice very quiet and hoarse, and she turns so that she’s kind of pressing her face into the doorframe, and Ellie feels her heart kinda jump a little, because she, too, mashes her face into doors or pillows or her own arms and she likes to pretend that they are someone else’s, holding her while she cries. She wonders if Tess does that too.

“I w-want you,” Tess says, touching the waxy lines on the note again, flipping it over - “oh, Christ,” she chokes, now her fingertips are running over the little smiley faced one. She squeezes her eyes shut tight and puts the paper on the floor in front of her and her tears drip on it some, and Ellie stands, stock-still, eyes wide.

“Am - am I making you upset?” she chances, just to be sure.

Tess shakes her head. “No,” she says, taking a short, shallow breath, “no you’re not, Ellie, you’ve never upset me, ev - “

“Are you sure?” Ellie says, clenching her fists, the blankies flopped before her, and she feels her lip tremble, biting it hard so as not to show weakness. “Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t want me to run away? ‘Cause I - I was gonna pack all my things up, and - and maybe take some foods, and then go. I might if I am making you upset.”

“Please stay,” says Tess, “Ellie, let me explain the argument to you, and tell you how it ended, please stay, I - “ She bites her lip. “I know how you f-eel, Ellie, I do. I know exactly how you feel.”

Ellie edges a little closer, skeptical, still shaken by the sight of Tess crying. “Really?”

Tess takes another deep breath and looks a little bit more like herself; kind of -  _ harder _ , but soft at the same time. “My mom didn’t want me, Ellie, but I want you, okay?” She stares hard at Ellie, and Ellie nearly trips on the row of blankies before her feet. “You - remind me of myself, and god damn it that’s so selfish, and so stupid, but I gotta give you something better than that, y’know? You’re s-smart and sweet and you deserve something so much better than going back out there, you probably deserve someone so much better than me to - raise you or help you out or love you -” and here she chokes, kinda high-pitched like Ellie thinks her voice sounded earlier. She allows her lip to wobble. “But you gotta know that I don’t want you to leave, okay? You gotta know that someone wants you. Someone loves you.”

Her hands are white-knuckled on the doorframe.

“‘m cold.”

Ellie draws her hands in close to her chest, and pretends to trip on the blankets so that she can say that’s what she did, and flops forwards into Tess’ arms and allows herself to be crushed. It feels nice to cry into someone else’s shoulder. It’s better than when she pretended her arms were the shoulder of someone who loved her, or the couch cushion, or like how Tess was probably pretending with the doorjamb. 

“We want you to s-stay,” Tess mumbles into her hair, “I promise, Ellie, I m-mean - y’know how much sillier that old man gets ‘round you?” She nods her head back into the room, where Joel is snoring and sleeping like the dead - “he went down and traded up and down the market to get a box of crayons for you, ‘n then he acted like he just f-found them,” she says, giving a watery giggle. Ellie’s never heard Tess laugh like that before; it’s kinda nice. She curls up tighter, into a little ball. There are long, elegant fingers smoothing gently through her hair, a gentle kiss here and there; Ellie sniffles and tries very hard to commit this feeling to memory, of being held and rocked and soothed, just so that she can bring up the delicious sensation of it if she ever ends up alone sometime again. Tess squeezes her, almost too tightly. Ellie tries to imagine Tess as a little girl, as someone she would play with in the alleys, but she can’t quite. 

“Y-your handwritin’s gotten a lot better, baby girl,” Tess wobbles gently. “Do - do y’always write down what we say at night, hmm?” 

“Only sometimes,” Ellie whines, very muffled. “Lotsa - lotsa times ‘s just like, grunts and yells, but I figure that’s not really a fight, you could be wrestlin’ or working out maybe.”

Tess nods quietly, and when Ellie peers up into her face she thinks she sees Tess' cheeks a little red, maybe from crying too. "That's right, baby girl. That's smart of you to know about the uh - the difference." She sniffles once, and gives Ellie a gentle, watery smile. "H-ere hon; d'you wanna come sleep in the big bed with us?"


	10. birthday

“‘s that?”

Joel grins, and Tess is taken aback - he almost never smiles like that, and if he does, it’s hidden under layers of beard, but he reaches into the bag and pulls out something wrapped in foil, holds it out to her. It’s freezing cold to the touch, and she looks at him skeptically, weighs it in her hand - “what is this, a bomb?” she asks, narrowing her eyes almost playfully at him, and he shakes his head.

“Open it. Just a bit. Gotta make sure it - just open it,” he says, leaning across the countertop. Tess’ eyes flit to Ellie, sitting beneath the window and allowing the sun to warm her up, zooming the small tin car Joel made her last week across the slats of the floorboards. 

She peels back a corner of the foil and drops the rectangle on the table, covering her mouth, “c’mon, are you screwing with me?”

He shakes his head, rewraps the foil still with that glint in his eyes, almost mischievous. “Where the hell’d you get that?” she says, as quietly as she can; Tess went through a lot of those little packages of Dove chocolates with the sayings on the wrappers, and the fancy ones that came in a little cardboard box precisely the size of the bar. This barely even looks like chocolate - it’s kind of sludgy-looking despite being hard and cold - like it’s been melted and refrozen a hundred thousand times, but god, it’s been years since she had a taste of chocolate. 

“‘s for her birthday tonight,” Joel mutters, nodding his head at the girl in the sun, who’s now making small motor noises. They can hear little commands issuing from her setup beneath the window -  _ no! drive faster - aaaarrgh! you gotta escaaaaape - WATCH OUT FOR THE - FOR THE GIANT SPIKES -  _ and Tess smiles, presses her lips together, looks at the little foil package on the countertop.

“Here,” she says, “let’s keep it cold.” They put it in the freezer, which they try to keep packed with ice when it’s not running and running when they can risk the generator power, stick it in amongst the bags of half-melted ice to keep cool. 

“Y’know how many favors it takes to get a bar o’chocolate?” he asks her, and she shakes her head, shuts the freezer door carefully. (Affixed to it, with some slightly stolen magnets, is a wallpaper of crayon drawings.) 

“Mm? A shitton?”

“More’n it takes to get two good guns with bullets,” he says under his breath, “‘s just leave it at that.”

Ellie’s birthday had come up strangely. Every year for their birthdays they pour out a drink for each other; never mind that neither of them really care to celebrate or see any reason to. They don’t remember quite who started it, or how exactly either of them found out the other one’s date of birth, but perhaps it was mumbled in the quiet conversations shared late, late at night, when their brains were a little incapacitated from exhaustion, orgasms, or both. 

So on Tess’ birthday, when Joel had set out a small bouquet of primroses and Queen Anne’s lace, and a glass of scotch, and half-frozen highbush cranberries sprinkled in sugar (one of her favorites; he’d like ‘em cooked down into a good sauce and served with some rabbit or venison, but it’s her birthday, after all), Ellie had been intensely confused about what the occasion was.

“Her birthday?” she had repeated, incredulous; “‘s that mean?”

“Don’t you know about birthdays, baby?” he’d asked her, ruffling her hair gently. “When’s yours, hm? The day you were born.”

“Oh.” Her face had fallen slightly. “I - I dunno. I mean, I know ‘m seven, but I just get another year older on the first day of the new year. I don’t have a birthday.”

He’d looked at her so very sadly when she’d said that, as she had helped him arrange the flowers on the table; “d’you want one?”

Ellie pressed her lips together and stuck one of their spoons in the dish of berries and sugar. “Well - what do you get to do on a birthday? Do you get flowers?”

“You get flowers, sure,” he nodded, “if y’like ‘em, or sometimes people give you presents, or make you somethin’ nice.” 

Ellie had thought about it for a moment; “when  _ is _ my birthday?” she’d asked.

“Whenever you want,” he’d told her.

(She had made Tess a card out of pink construction paper, drawn the two of them on the front of it; holding hands with matching bandanas.)


	11. wrestle

“Hey, Mama.”

Joel is in the midst of pouring her just a little bit more whiskey; it’s been a rather long, exhausting day (and previous night, but for better reasons) for them. Sometimes they relax like this, but it’s usually later, and their kid hasn’t decided to become a ball of pure energy. So tonight they unwind and now they’re slightly tipsy, candles burning in the fireplace grate because it’s not quite cold enough for a fire yet, and Ellie’s been coloring all night.

Tess turns; her feet are resting on one end of the couch and her legs are flopped comfortably across Joel’s lap, so she sprawls out across the length of the sofa, smiling warmly at her daughter. “Hm? What is it, Ellie?”

“W-eeell,” Ellie says, shuffling over to them on her pillow-seat, sliding over the floorboards with paper and crayons in hand. She sets up office on the crate table, with it between the three of them, and settles in; “I was thinking - ‘cause last night, it sounded like you had a really tough wrestling match.”

Joel watches her somber little face and hides a twitching smile under his beard. “Real tough,” he says, squeezing Tess’ ass and moving his hand away quickly when she scowls and kicks at him. “Good thing I came out...on top.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters - “go on, Ellie.”

“I thought of a way I can help!” she chirps, and they instantly share a look of concern, but Ellie continues, smoothing her paper, straightening her crayons. “I’m going to make a  _ rulebook.  _ For the wrestling!”

“A - a rulebook.” Joel repeats, leaning over Tess’ legs, his brow furrowing, rather confused. 

Ellie nods, delighted. “For wrestling! Y’know, like...Rule number one. No punching in the face! Orrrrr, Rule number two. Don’t…” she pauses, trying hard to think up a good one - “if you make - make your opponent...nnmm...oh!” Her eyes light up. “No using other weapons besides your hands or feet or - or no outside weapons.” She folds her arms, nearly bouncing with excitement, clearly quite proud of her ideas.

“Oh,” Tess giggles, “ohhh, um - “ and she turns to Joel, eyes sparkling. “Y’hear that? No outside weapons...Ellie, Joel likes his weapons; maybe they should be allowed, I mean, ‘s not like they hurt too bad.”

Joel huffs, his arms wrapped over her legs; “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” he mutters, rather deeply, and Tess enjoys the feeling of the flush creeping up her cheeks. “I don’t need no weapons t’make your legs shake. Hell, don’t need anythin’ to make it hard for you to walk - “

She wiggles her legs and kicks at him and he grins at her. “‘m already a weapon on my own, baby - “

“All right, all right,” she drawls, “weapons are allowed, but not necessary. That good?” He swears he sees her wink at him. 

“And no biting,” Ellie adds as an afterthought, narrowing her eyes almost accusingly at Joel. “Your teeth hurt lots when you bite, you know.”

“Well now,” he says, looking rather flustered, “this’s just unsportsmanlike, seems, I mean, all these rules’ll take away the spirit of the fight.”

“I thought you were your own weapon,” Tess teases him, “don’t need any help, right -”

“ _ Help, _ ” he mutters incredulously. “Help...only help ‘s when you need help walkin’...” She watches him, her smile only growing wider. He pulls her up then, gentle but firm, so that she’s sitting in his lap, and he slips his arms round her waist. “Tie you down, make you learn your lesson…” he says against the back of her neck, and he nips there surreptitiously, and she squirms, feels the delicious shivers run down her back.

Tess grinds her hips down gently, wondering if she bruised his ego - sometimes she teases him a little too much and he responds the next evening. It’s wonderful; sometimes she likes deserving the roughness a little bit, growls and arches into his touch and whimpers when he spanks her hard and makes her count them.

“Here’s what I got so far,” Ellie says seriously, holding up the paper. At the top in blue is RESTLIN RULZ, and then beneath there’s a smiling #1 - WEPUNS = DONT NED, BUT R ALOWD. Next to this item is drawn a picture of a sharp-looking knife, brown crayon handle and grey crayon blade. “Hmmm. How about - there’s gotta be a few moves you can’t do,” she says, quite solemn. “Moves that are  _ unallowed. _ Are there any dirty moves that he does,” she points at Joel, “that you don’t want him doin’, Mama?”

“Well,” Tess says, her lips curling into a catlike grin, “this’s more of a preventative thing but how ‘bout - no funny business with the butt.”

“Funny business?” Ellie raises her eyebrows, and Joel stares at her, looking on the verge of either laughing or doing something a little bit more assertive. “Like what?”

“Weeell, y’know,” Tess says, leaning back against his chest, “like - anythin’ real unnatural. Putting things where they oughta not be - like...like putting a sock on your head, y’know? You try to jam it in - on, and things just aren’t working how they should be…”

“But socks don’t fit on your head,” Ellie says, “‘s why you don’t put them on your - “

“Exactly,” Tess says, nodding sagely, and Joel shakes his head, takes another sip of his drink. 

Ellie marks it down carefully - NO BUT STUF. NO SOX ON HEDS!!!! - but then she pauses, contemplative; “what do you  _ do  _ when you wrestle, Daddy? Can I try it?” That spark enters her eye again - “I’d be good at it! I would! I would fight reaaaaally hard,” she says, flopping around on her pillow, knocking a crayon onto the floor.

“Oh, no,” Joel says, shaking his head solemnly. “No, hon, wrestlin’ isn’t for you. ‘s an adult thing.”

“Why?” Ellie asks, leaning onto the crate table inquisitively. “I wanna try it…”

“Well,” Tess begins, rather at a loss; “um...you’ll get hurt. If we wrestle you,” she continues, gaining steam as she goes on, “you’ll be at a disadvantage - y’know, you’re a lot littler than us. It’s only for people who’re - uh - grown.”

Ellie seems to think this over, though her eyes are narrowed sadly and she pouts slightly; “so...maybe it should be a rule? No wrestling if you’re...well...maybe if you’re less than a certain amount tall,” she says, quite seriously, and then begins to mark it down. CANT RESTL IF U R TU SHORT.

Joel pauses, shifts Tess on his lap; he sips his drink thoughtfully and sets it down on the table. He lifts Tess gently aside until she sort of rolls off, floppy with drink, eyeing him suspiciously; but he simply circles the table, sits down beside Ellie, and then wraps both arms around her and topples her to the ground. She flails and kicks and giggles right away; but because she is so small, he can easily pick her up and Superman her, holding her aloft with both arms and spinning her in a quick circle before she becomes a rather vicious koala bear on his back, clinging tight and attempting to bring him down. “I’M GONNA GET HIM, MAMA,” she assures Tess, “DON’T YOU WORRY, I’LL WIN THIS ROUND,” but Joel has managed to pry her off and is now holding her half-upside down. Ellie squeals, giggling and flopping, this time accidentally grabbing a handful of beard. Joel pauses, just long enough to feel the slight tug, before immediately disentangling her fingers and setting her right side up. Ellie is a tenacious fighter; she rushes at his legs once more and after he says  _ oof  _ and ruffles her ponytail, she decides to sit down on his foot and become a koala bear there.

“Can you - can you make me go around and - and give a ride?” she exclaims, peering up at him, and so Joel makes a show of roaring dramatically with effort as he drags her along on his leg, and Ellie makes a game of holding on as tight as she can so she doesn’t fall off. 

“All right, c’mon, I think Joel won that one - see?” Tess says, watching them from the couch, sprawled and smiling with warmth lighting her skin, “this’s why you can’t wrestle, Ellie girl.”

“Hey,” Ellie says, a mischievous little smile on her face; and she detaches from Joel’s leg and jumps onto the couch. Tess groans as the breath is knocked out of her, sets her drink down quickly as Ellie begins to flop around like a small, persistent eel, wrapping around her and rolling, trying to drag her down off the couch; Tess squirms to get the small knee out of where it’s poking her stomach and tries to detach Ellie’s arms, but the girl giggles as Tess starts to slide off the cushions, holds her tightly. 

“Do you resign?!” Ellie asks, and Tess shakes her head, grins, can’t hold back a small laugh at the utter determination in Ellie’s eyes. She grabs Ellie back, hoists her onto the couch so that she’s lying flat on top of Tess, and the girl wriggles, whines, “that’s not fair! You’re bigger, you can lift me easy!”

“I know,” Tess says, tickling her gently, and Ellie giggles, squirms about as she is tickled mercilessly, as Joel retrieves his breath and surreptitiously moves the half-empty glasses to the countertop. (Maybe that’s enough for tonight, he thinks.) But then he comes back to them, lies down happily on top of Tess and makes an Ellie sandwich.

“Hey - heeey!” Ellie says, flopping gently, “ooh - oooh you’re so heavy - “ and tries to push Joel off, to no avail. “I’m in a sandwich,” she observes, though she’s quite content being squished and cuddle within an inch of her life like this. She lays her head on Tess’ chest and nuzzles her mama’s neck, inhales the nice clean sweet smell of her, comforting.


	12. bedroom bedlam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess and Joel need to learn to be quieter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filth. This has been a warning.

Fun times in the bedroom becomes something closer to a timed challenge after Ellie recovers. It’s not as if they can explain to Ellie why the bedroom door is locked at night, or why sometimes she might hear sounds coming from the bedroom and not to worry, it’s okay, Joel isn’t hurting Tess (not in any way she wouldn’t want him to). As far as she’s concerned, they’re ‘wrestling’; training to be stronger and better at beating up bad guys and hurting people who hurt them. It takes into account the bruises and bites and marks she sees on Tess’ skin, “Joel must fight  _ hard _ ,” she’d gasped, almost awed - if Joel was that rough to her and Tess  _ won _ ? 

They let her think what she will. It’s less questions to answer and frankly, Joel’s stamina can’t take all the five minute fuck and tuck.

“Get on top,” he groans one night; they’re hot and slick and trying their best to keep the noisy grunts and moans to a minimum, and already they’ve tucked the blankets against the wall to keep the headboard from slamming into it. They’d started quickly; hot, eager, greedy kisses and hungry groping, and Tess had done away with her underwear and nightshirt quite readily, and stroked his cock to full mast. It doesn’t take much for him to get there, but he appreciates the practiced, firm way her hand glides up along his shaft, squeezes at the base and cups his balls. 

Tess purrs, arches her back and gasps when his rough fingers slide over her nipple and pinches. “Lazy today, old man?” she moans, bites on her lower lip, and Joel presses his head back on the pillow and groans at the sight. She grins, rubs the head of his cock over her folds, grinding and rolling her hips against him until it spreads her folds, presses at her hole insistently. 

“Just don’t wanna -  _ fuck, Tess  _ \- don’t wanna stop halfway when the half-pint starts bangin’ at the door,” he grits, the muscle in his jaw jumping from how hard he’s grinding his teeth. He helps her swing her legs over him, leans back into the pillows and groans as he watches the muscles on her back in the dim light; the arch and curve of her shoulder blades, the long stretch of her spine and the way her pussy spreads as she slides down his shaft.

A thick, shuddering breath leaves her throat as she settles fully on his lap, rolls her hips gently as she adjusts to the stretch, the hot length of him pressing inside her so deep.  "Hmmnnnn, giddy up, cowboy," she purrs, and Joel feels that thick jolt in his belly at the look she gives him over her shoulder. 

His hands come up to grip her hips hard, squeezes so brutally that she nearly flinches when he starts to rut up into her. She smothers a whine, presses her fingers against his hand, locking between his fingers where they sink into her thigh and hip as she moves in time with his deep-seated thrusts. It’s all she can do not to rock against him hard, slam herself down onto his cock and let her come smear messy and wet over their thighs, but the point of this little excursion is to be quiet and fast. 

With the way his hips are rolling against her, the way he lifts them off the bed and fucking  _ sinks _ into her with every thrust, Tess doesn’t think she stands a chance against him. 

She chokes on a whimper, her thighs trembling as she lifts herself and slams back down; she reaches for her clit and rubs frantically. “Hmmnnn f-uck fuck Joel -”

“Come on, baby,” he rasps, and God, the way the words scrape over her spine makes Tess cream over his cock, hot and thick and sticky as she flails her hand out for his calves, grips them tight for stability as she starts to buck and writhe on top of him. He growls, slaps her ass hard, groans at the deep pink mark that blooms across her deliciously round ass. 

“Come on,” he grunts, and Tess all but bites through her lip as his fingers snake over her clit, rubs and pinches mercilessly. “Come for me, good girl. Fuckin’ come on my cock for me, Tess, come on now -”

As hard as she tries, Tess can’t swallow the wailing scream that he pulls from her chest as he ruts up inside her deep and holds there, and she feels her walls trembling and clenching sporadically, the wet, thick gush of come seeping from around where his cock is splitting her wide open. She tries to collapse over his legs, weak and drained, hips jolting and rolling reflexively still as he palms her ass, her hips, squeezes and spanks and makes her jolt and whine. 

“Not yet,” she hears him gasp, the rolling growl in his chest as he holds her upright in his lap still, pulls her up roughly and palms her breasts instead, rolls her nipples and pinches them as he grinds up into her. “Y’got another one in you yet.”

She groans, pants for breath as she pushes the strands of hair sticking to her face back. “‘m done for,” she breathes, whining lowly as he rolls his hips in a circle, presses his cock against that place inside her. Her nails sink into his thighs, scrabbling for purchase, but she can’t help but arch back, tries to lift herself off his cock. “‘m s-sore mnnnnn c’mon, J-oel,” she whines.

He growls, squeezes over her breast hard; “not sore enough ‘f you can still walk,” he says, and forces her hips back down roughly. It’s only by his reflexes that he manages to clamp a hand firmly over Tess’ mouth as she screams shrilly.

He grunts, struggling to hold her steady as she writhes. “No use fightin’ it, baby, I feel your pussy gushin’ already - bet you wanna fuckin’ squirt on my cock, don’t you?” He sits up, kisses the salty sweet of her sweat off her shoulder before biting down, marking her as she smothers low, keening whimpers and comes thrashing over his cock. 

The sheets beneath them are wet; he can feel the wetness trickling down from her pussy between his legs and pooling under him. He purrs in approval, licks over her pulse and bites gently. 

Tess is gasping for breath, vision blurring as the stars dance in the corners, the white flash of another orgasm tearing through her, riding down the length of her spine as he rocks against her almost idly; toys with her clit with slow, rough, purposeful fingers. She mumbles something, all but wails it through his hand, but Joel hushes her, kisses the taut skin of her neck just as her eyes roll back and he feels the shudder ride from her head down to her toes.

He feels the wet rush on his cock, the twitching, spasming nub against his fingers. “Good girl,” he murmurs, spreading his dripping fingers over her hips, her waist, spans them up and marks her skin in her own wetness; lifts them to her lips and slips his fingers inside her gasping mouth. 

“Squirtin’ a mess all over the sheets, mm? Fuck, Tess, feel like ‘m gonna fuckin’ break ‘nside you.” She moans around his fingers, sucks the taste of herself off them eagerly; he grins wolfishly. “Mmn, like the taste of it, hmm? Can tell when your pussy’s fuckin’ sweet and hot for me, can’t wait to fuckin’ eat you up, breed you nice and good for me, filthy little cock slut.”

She growls at him, deep, low, sinks her nails into his thigh just as the door creaks open - barely a crack.

“Tess?”

Joel swallows a vicious swear, bringing his hands down to her hip and tugging the sheets well over where their bodies are pressed quite intimately together; he leans slightly to peer over Tess’ bowed back to see the small head peeking through the crack in the door. 

Tess scrambles for her tank top, barely getting it on before Ellie appears fully in the doorway, staring at them worriedly. “Yeah, hun?” she asks, breathless and red-faced. She gives the girl a shaky smile as she pushes her hair off her face, wishes she had some kind of elastic now to keep it off her neck. 

Ellie chews her lip anxiously, peering at where Joel is staring quite resolutely up at the ceiling, sparing her only the occasional glance from the corner of his eye. “You yelled,” she mumbles, staring curiously at the way Tess is squirming restlessly on Joel’s lap; the woman looks flustered, probably from all the wrestling, and Joel must be mad because she caught him losing. “Are you okay?” she asks Tess anxiously, making to climb onto the bed, but Tess’ frantic yell stops her.

“No! No - baby, uh, you don’t want to get up here,” Tess stutters, smiling reassuringly at the wounded look on Ellie’s face. She could feel Joel pulsing inside her still, hard and impatient; she sucks in a sharp breath when she feels him start to roll his hips slowly, barely noticeable but  _ she  _ certainly feels it. “Nnnaaah - we’’re all s-sweaty and messy and stuff and youuuuu don’t wanna smell like us.” She bites down hard on her lip, gives Ellie a helpless smile, tries to ignore the rising heat on her face. “Joel’s stinky.”

He growls from behind her, ruts in hard in reproach. 

Tess’ eyes squeeze shut briefly. “Ellie girl,” she says slowly, swallowing a breath. It’s hard to even get her eyes to focus on the little burrito in front of her. “Why don’t you gooooo to Joanna’s and ask if there’s anything she’d like from the garden?” She sinks her nails into his thigh when he rubs over her clit again. “Joooel can take you later today. After I  _ beat  _ him at  _ wrestling _ .”

She can’t see it, but she knows he’s grinning. 

“Run along, baby girl,” he tells her gruffly, making a show of scowling at Tess’ back. “Go see Joanna and lemme try to  _ redeem  _ my honor real quick.” His eyes light when Tess yelps as the surprise thrust he gives her. 

Ellie’s eyes light up at the thought; she can check on her strawberries! “Ooooh! Okay!” She hops up, clasps her hands together and then looks over at Joel quite somberly. “‘m sorry you lost the wrestling,” she tells him seriously, moving to the door. “Maybe next time, you can get on top and then you can win.”

“Sounds like a mighty fine idea,” Joel says to a shutting door, and growls as he sits up abruptly, rolling them until he’s hovering over Tess. “Now -” he gives a hard thrust, and Tess scoots up against the pillows. “Think you got it in you for one last round?”

Tess moans. “S’ppose so,” she whimpers, gripping the headboard. “All that hard work, old man.” She cants her hips up to him, lifts it right off the bed and locks her legs around his waist. She grins at him, licking her lips. “Fill me up and make it count.”


	13. journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess and Joel close up shop

“Daddy, how do y’think the other plants are doing?”

Ellie’s having a little trouble keeping up as they hike through Colorado, and not because they’re low on supplies, they’ve been on the move for hours straight, or her strength is giving out. Ellie is also trying to carry a tiny terra-cotta pot with the beginnings of a little green seedling, a backpack so full of items that it’s nearly as big as her with a bedroll that bumps against the back of her legs when she walks, and, in her left hand, a gnarled branch she found on the ground and claimed as her walking stick. 

Ellie had been so terribly sad to leave her plants that Joel had taken a seed from the tomato plant, helped her pot it into the smallest, best little terracotta piece they could scrounge up. She had watered it faithfully until it was time to leave, and by then, it had sprouted into a tiny seedling. “I’m gonna plant this when we get to our other home,” Ellie often announces, quite seriously.

One time Tess read her a book about traveling across country by wagon. This is what it reminds her of - sleeping beneath the stars in the high hammocks Joel strings up for them, gathering food and eating from their stores, always checking to be sure they travel in the right direction. She brought that book with her - Tess reads it to her at night sometimes by candlelight. Sometimes, while they read, Ellie finds herself somewhat mesmerized by the curve of her mama’s belly; it’s so strange to her that there could really be a baby in there. When Mama and Daddy had told her that she would have a baby brother or sister, she had been surprised - with many questions that were answered rather awkwardly. She knows that when a mama and daddy love each other lots, together they can make a baby, but she’s sure to warn them not to wrestle because it might hurt the baby. (Tess had looked rather shocked at this, and Joel had looked hyperconcerned, and for a few long weeks after that comment Tess was very moody and her cheeks were always hot.)

She also knows that her mama gets sleepier a lot earlier, and also that soon, when she puts her head on her mama’s tummy, she’ll be able to feel the baby kick. That kind of scares Ellie a little - shouldn’t Mama be afraid of something inside of her? Nevertheless, she is excited to have a baby brother or sister to teach and to have as a playmate. “The fiiiirst thing I’ll teach,” she says as they walk along through the forestry at the base of the mountains, “iiiis...how to grow things. That’s important.” She strokes the tiny leaves of her seedling carefully and then grabs her walking stick again. “Second...uh...how to pick a good walking stick.”

“Those’re some good startin’ points,” Joel tells her, his hand on the small of Tess’ back. He offers his hand when they step over a log, even if she’s not off balance yet, and she accepts it with a little smile. He worries about her now - she knew it would happen, but something about it tugs at her heartstrings, the way he hovers over her, the way he makes sure she doesn’t need anything before she goes to sleep, the way he curls around her protectively in the hammock. 

He’s noticed pieces of broken glass on the ground as they continue on their course - and once, an entire sheet of curved, veined windowpanes, thrown from the sides of something clean and blue and modern. Ellie had wanted to climb it, play in it, but he had pulled her to his side by her hand, told her to be careful of the glass on the ground, to step around it.

The forests of Colorado are overgrown and arching with the time since the outbreak; he half expects to see jungle vines when he turns the next corner. “Daddy, what’s this - oh!” He turns, on hyperalert for anything that could threaten his family, and he sees Ellie, walking stick set carefully at her side next to her plant, bent and examining a patch of asphalt peeking through the groundcover. 

She traces her fingertips over the rough surface, and then she rises, picks up her walking stick and plant and continues intrepidly on between her parents. Ellie hoists her backpack higher on her shoulders, and together they walk as the terrain begins to even out somewhat. Joel is relieved for Tess’ sake - he knows she’s just as capable as before, but she tires a little easier now, and he’s taking absolutely no chances. 

“OHHH,” Ellie says, running ahead a little - “OH, I WANNA GO IN HERE!”

“Ellie, careful now,” he says, walking a little faster to catch up - “careful, careful, we don’t know what’s in - .”

He stops, and Tess beside him, for where the trees break there stretches a great broken ornament of a building, long and arched and covered with the glass windows strewn in the forest. And, stretched out before them, the wing of a jetplane is grown with mosses and trees, vines and undergrowth, water pouring steadily out of one of the engines, a slow-moving river current flowing below the makeshift bridge as the plane tilts in their direction, the red-white-blue logo still visible on the tail. 

“WHAT IS THIS?” Ellie exclaims, and Joel hushes her gently; the clickers like to center on human activity, on damp and decaying places where the fungus festers, but the airport looks too old, too dry, too deserted. They may yet not risk it - but Ellie is clambering onto the wing of the plane, sticking her walking stick down and looking like a conqueror of Mount Everest. 

He helps Tess onto the wing, and together they walk - it’s a strange little ecosystem that exists here, and Tess reaches for Ellie’s hand, making sure she stays close to the center of the wing and away from the edges, from the river down below. 

They cross through the broken fuselage of the plane and into the cracked-glass airport, and they feel as if they are put into a diorama, the way the glass opens up to the sky, the walls and plants creeping through them to bring sparse greenery to the cool metal interior. “What is it?” Ellie asks, reaching to the ground and picking up a tiny metal model of a plane, weighing it in her hands.

“‘s called an airplane,” Joel says, crouching down beside her and flicking the little wheels on the landing gear, so that they roll on her fingers. “Long time ago, when people wanted to get somewhere far away - they’d climb inside, and it would fly up in the air -”

“Like a bird?!”

“Like a bird,” he nods, sagely, “and it’d take you wherever you wanted to go.”

“I mean,” Ellie says, peering at the plane, holding it up to the light, “I guess they were  _ bigger _ , right?”

He chuckles, straightens to ruffle her ponytail. “Yeah, big as the one outside that we walked on.”

Ellie’s eyes go wide; he watches as she sets her walking stick and plant on the cleanest space she can find of the airport floor, swing her backpack round one shoulder, unzip it, and tuck the small plane in. She’s been collecting little trinkets from their travels - Joel and Tess had talked about that once, about teaching her not to take what didn’t belong to her, but then they realized that that would be highly hypocritical. So they leave it at ‘treat things with respect’; and Ellie knows, when they’re camping in a house for the evening, that the objects left behind have significance, once had personality and belonged to someone real. (It’s a hard concept for someone so little, but she does pretty well.)

“Mama,” she says, trotting along after Tess (it amazes them both how dedicated she is to carrying about her plant and her stick, even whilst running - she picks them up dutifully and holds them as she walks), slipping both of her hands around one of her mother’s. “Did you ever go in one of the - the - airlanes? I don’t think I’d have liked to. They must go up too high. Unless they just kinda - “ she draws her hand in a flat, sweeping line “stay like that over the trees.”

“I’ve been on...one or two,” Tess says, chewing her lip and thinking. She’s mostly focused on when they’re going to eat next, but she’s careful not to mention this to Joel, because she knows he’d give her all of his food for the rest of the journey if she doesn’t think before she speaks. She’s not keen on having a starving Joel, even if it means she gets some extra jerky. 

“How is it?” Ellie asks excitedly, her plant and stick bundled underneath one arm. “Oops. Hang on.”

She rearranges her items, spinning around rather awkwardly until finally she holds out her pot. “Um - Mama? Can you unzip it and - please put the tomato in there?” She pauses. “Well. It could be a tomato. Daddy said he picked a surprise one for me and then when it grows up I’ll see what kind it is.”

“Here, baby girl, hold still a sec.” Tess unzips the backpack and sets her pot in there securely, with Ellie’s clothes bundled around it to hold it steady; she catches sight of the tiny metal airplane, of the car Joel had made her when she had first come into their lives, her box of crayons, neatly folded paper placed into the pocket at the back of the backpack. “Flyin’ on a plane...it’s not my favorite thing in the world. Y’ask me, I’d rather take a train, or a bus.”

Ellie’s face screws up in concentration. “A train or a bus,” she says, struggling to remember the difference - are trains the ones that have the poles inside? No, both of them do. Which ones are big long chains? Chains rhymes with trains. Trains = chains. “Really? I’d wanna be flying in the air. I mean, imagine how many  _ birds  _ you could see. You could seeee...a goose flying, a  _ chicken _ ….”

They told Ellie that, at Tommy’s place, it would be a lot easier for her to have pets. She had been a little confused by that too, and had nuzzled her head into their hands (for pets), but they had explained quickly: an animal (you don’t eat it) to keep around for companionship. Chickens laid eggs, Tess had said, drawing a picture of a hen on a nest; cows made milk. You could keep both and have eggs and milk - Ellie has only tasted substitute and powdered milk, which she likes, because it tastes pretty sweet to her. 

She is excited to have a pet; Ellie thinks she’d like a dog. She had made friends with many of them down at the wharf - they followed her around because she shared her food scraps with them, and they made cozy, warm pillows. She liked watching them splash around in the water when they went swimming, and she liked it even more when their big wet noses would nuzzle her cheek. Besides, they had a loud, scary bark that would help frighten people away from hurting her. That was nice. Dogs remind her of Joel and Tess. 

Ellie hums, skips along between her parents in the pairport, her luggage on her back and her stick in one hand. She’s careful not to slam it down too hard onto the ground and break the tiles that remain; Joel’s shoulders have relaxed a little, but he’s still on high alert, on the lookout for Infected that might threaten his family.

They explore the gift shop of the airport for supplies, but it’s unsurprising when they realize everything here is perishable - except for the water bottles, though, and they take those, put them in their packs for later. Clean water is invaluable. Ellie uses a marker to draw her name on hers. ELLIE, she writes. Sometimes they are still JOLE and TES when she feels like being formal, but more often now they are MAMA and DADE.

"Mama," she says, walking stick tucked under one small arm as she holds onto Tess' hand and hops carefully down a broken escalator. "How is baby brother-sister gonna come out of your belly?"


	14. enfold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boston to Wyoming is a long, long way.

The journey across country is a difficult one. That’s to say the least; even with Joel and Tess trying to use the safest (albeit longer) routes, shying away from once heavily populated cities and places, it’s still been a hard time getting through blockades and Hunters. Passing through Pittsburgh had ended in too much of a close call for their liking, but Joel had known better than to wander into populated spaces like that. Hunters liked clusters of cities to take control of; “like funnelin’ cattle over the cliff,” he tells them, mouth pulled into a grim line. 

Ellie clings to her Mama’s shirt, stumbling over her feet as they traverse the overgrown roots and overwhelmed remnants of pavement. For the most part they’d avoided any unnecessary bloodshed - the last thing they’d wanted was to expose Ellie to that kind of brutality, and now with Tess pregnant, Joel’s been on the extreme end of protective. 

“Is there anything for a snack?” Ellie asks, shivering slightly against Tess’s side. Rain is pattering in a steady, mild pour over the land, and they huddle into the remains of an old cabin along the edges of a river. It’s overgrown now, more forest than log, but it’s a roof over their heads for the night. 

Joel’s knelt by the crusty fireplace, desperately trying to keep the fire going, and through the flickering firelight he shares a look with Tess. “Should be some of those berries you like in the pack,” he tells her gently. He presses his lips together as he watches Tess usher Ellie towards their bedrolls, the way Ellie unzips her bag and rummages through it eagerly. 

Their food stores are getting low. He’d hoped that they might’ve had enough to last just a little while longer; he was hoping to have more chance hunting down prey, getting fresh meat and foraging for wild greens to feed them, but the seasons are changing a little faster than they can catch up with. There’s still food - he knows there’s still food - but he doesn’t know if there’ll be enough food when it gets colder.

Joel presses his lips together tightly. Fuck, maybe it wasn’t such a grand idea comin’ out this far….

Tess is having a harder time keeping up now. From what he can figure, she’s almost six months along; even hiding it behind one of his shirts, she’s showing clear and true and if the Hunters get to her - 

She’s still too skinny, he thinks. Too bony and lean, all of the baby making up the roundness of her, and not much else. It cuts deep into him to think that he hasn’t been able to feed her what she needs - what their baby needs -, but there’s only so much he can do. Already he gives her most of his own rations, watches anxiously until she eats it all, but Tess and Ellie both seem to be a little smaller than when they began. 

“They’re not there,” he hears their daughter say; he looks up and sees her eyes wide and disappointed as she slowly zips her bag shut. “I guess I ate them before and I didn’t remember.”

Tess bundles her up into a blanket, cuddling Ellie gently as the cabin begins to fill with warmth and the soft smell of wood and damp. “Here, you see if I’ve got anything to nibble on in my pack, okay?” she soothes the girl, pulling her own pack over, but Ellie shakes her head vehemently.

“No, your foods are for baby brother-sister,” Ellie says, reaching over to place her small hands over the round curve of her mama’s belly, giving it gentle pets. “If - if I eat your foods, then you won’t have enough to feed the baby.”

“I’ll have more than enough,” Tess insists gently, and finds a slightly squished wheat snack bread on the inside of her pack. She tears open the foil and gives it a cursory sniff before handing Ellie a piece. “Here, hon. You eat as much as you want.”

Ellie rolls her lips in and clamps her mouth shut, shaking her head stubbornly. She folds her arms in a very suspiciously similar way, and Tess stares at her evenly for a long moment. 

“Ellie -”

“It’s for Mama.”

“Mama’s fine! I’m not hungry.” Tess waves the snack bread under her nose gently, prodding at the edges of her daughter’s stubborn mouth. “Please? You eat and I’ll take a bite, okay?”

Joel moves to them anxiously, digging through his own pack for something - jerky, beans, berries, anything,  _ something  _ \- but he comes back up with the meals that’ll keep them going for the next few days at most. He stares at the food pack grimly, sighing as he pulls out his canteen of water and the flameless ration heater. “Here’s somethin’,” he tells them, setting the heater on the floor and slipping the pack into it. “Should be good - think it’s somethin’ like lasagna or whatever.”

“Oooh!” Ellie scoots forward to watch eagerly; she’s watched this hundreds of times now, but she loves the way the steam puffs up in the bag, the bubble of the water inside as it cooks their meals. She watches Joel dribble the water in and fold the ration heater over, draping herself over Tess’s lap to watch as it begins to fizz. 

Tess, however, has her eyes lasered in on Joel’s face. He glances at her, a soft smile on his face, but Tess knows the tilt of his eyes, the way his smile doesn’t begin to crinkle the lines of his face. 

When Ellie is asleep between them, passed out on what was in fact vegetable lasagna and wheat snack bread pieces, Tess looks at Joel again. “How long will the rest last us?”

He looks away, but Tess’s hand squeezes at his arm, her eyes hard and sharp. Joel sighs. “I don’t know,” he murmurs eventually, peering down at their daughter, her small body curled up and pressed close to them for warmth. He touches her hair gently, tucks a strand behind her ear like he does to Tess, and looks back up. “Got about a couple packs left. I was thinkin’ I’d head down to the river and fish - ‘m sure there’ll be a whole lotta fishes after the rain. It’s not good for you to be walkin’ out in the damp; gets into your bones, makes you sick, y’know. Ain’t good for the baby.”

Tess presses her lips together. She inches in closer to them, feels her hand wrap gently around Ellie before she tilts her forehead up against Joel’s, kisses his cheek gently. “You don’t have to worry about me so much, old man,” she whispers. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Just wanna keep y’all safe,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. Outside, the rain was dwindled down into a whisper of drizzle, only heard among the leaves. 

 

\-----

 

The next morning, Tess wakes to smoky smell of their fire died down, and the now-familiar ache of her body. She uncurls herself reluctantly from Ellie’s small body, glancing around groggily for Joel when she reaches over and finds only the lingering warmth of him there. Her body protests the move to wake; her back and neck twinge from sleeping on the floor, and her hips and legs crack and snap as she pushes herself up onto her feet, sighing into the early morning. 

Her breasts prickle under her shirt, aching and heavy, and Tess runs a hand over her belly gently when the baby kicks hard. “Easy, little man,” she murmurs. “I don’t wanna be awake either.”

She has a feeling she knows where Joel’s gone, and after a careful peek through the barricaded door, she sees the dew sparkling off the grass and the too-bright sunrise pressing in through the cracks of the windows. The river’s not too far off, she doesn’t think; if she listens hard enough, she can hear the rush of the stream, so she settles for draping a blanket over her shoulders and goes to prod at the dwindling fire some. 

There’s enough water left in her canteen for some coffee. They don’t get an awful lot of coffee anymore, and it’s not like she can just stroll down into a store somewhere to get more, but the military’s food packs come with a couple sachets of shitty instant coffee, and Tess figures she ought to be grateful for that. She sets the metal cup over the fire, idling over the bubbling water as she watches Ellie roll in her sleep. 

Ellie’s too thin. She doesn’t like that the girl’s shirts are baggier now, that it’s easier for Joel to pick her up - or even Tess to hold her even with her belly in the way. It’s easy for Ellie to get cold now, and at night when she sleeps she curls herself so tight against Joel and Tess, and true enough Tess sees Ellie shiver a little in her blanket burrito. 

Her breast twinges again at the thought; Tess reaches to cup it with a low hiss, rubs over her chest gently to soothe the sharp prickling. It tingles under her fingers, and Tess gasps when she feels a wet spot form on her shirt. 

Let-down. 

It’s been happening more often now as she gets deeper into her pregnancy. Joel had told her that it was her body’s way of getting ready to feed their baby, and Tess has had to keep Joel from getting too interested in investigating further. As it is, she’s leaking through her shirt, and Tess pulls her shirt away enough to wipe the creamy drops from her nipples and tries her best not to add any more pressure. It’s part of the reason why she steals Joel’s shirts now - nothing  _ fits  _ across her chest anymore. 

“Mmmm….Mama?”

Ellie’s rolling awake, hair standing on end as she wipes at a sleep-crusted eye with a fist. Tess smiles at the girl warmly and says, “good morning, hon” as she pulls the boiling water off the fire. She’s shaking the sachet into the cup when Ellie ambles over to her, draping herself into Tess’s lap with a sleepy nuzzle against her belly.

“Morning, Mama.”

Tess pets her hair gently, smiling as she maneuvers Ellie up onto her lap for a good morning cuddle. She breathes in the soft, sweet smell of her daughter, lets Ellie nuzzle her face up against her neck and doze, but eventually the girl pulls back, blinking hazily at Tess.

“Is there anything for breakfast?”

Tess feels her heart sink. “Daddy’s getting something for us, honey,” she promises, pulling Ellie close for a soft forehead kiss. “Let’s cuddle and wait, okay?”

Ellie nods dejectedly, sighing into Tess’s neck as she wraps her small arms around her. “My tummy hurts a little,” she mumbles. “Like when it hurt last time when I was - when I was on the streets, like that.”

The thought makes Tess’s chest  _ hurt _ , and then there’s that tingle in her breast again. “Oh -”

“What’s that?” Ellie pulls back, peering curiously at Tess as she wipes at her chest again, eyes going a little wider and clearer when she sees the wet spot. “Did you cry, Mama?”

“No, baby, it’s - this is uh, it’s Mama’s milk.” She feels her skin flush, but Ellie’s staring at her so innocently and worriedly that Tess has to squish her reassuringly. “You know how we saw Henry’s dogs when they had puppies?”

Ellie nods eagerly. “So many puppies!”

“Right, and they were all drinking their mama’s milk, weren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, nodding slowly as she considers this; Tess watches her eyes squint slightly, and then flit from her breasts to her face, then back again. “So...this milk is for baby brother-sister?”

Tess nods patiently. “Yes, sweetheart, it’s for when your baby brother or sister comes.”

“Is it sweet milk like the powder ones you give - gave me in our old house?”

She bobs her head thoughtfully. “I don’t really know, hon -”

“Is it okay if I try some? I know that - it’s food for the baby, but it’s okay if I - if we shared, right Mama? Or - or does that milk feed baby brother-sister now?” Ellie peers curiously at her mother’s chest, wonders why it would be coming  _ out  _ of her if the baby was  _ inside  _ her and needed food from the inside.

Tess feels the heat creep up her chest, the flush riding along her neck into the high arches of her cheeks, and she wonders if her freckles burn that much brighter on her skin. It’s impulse for her to say no, and yet impulse for her to say yes - Ellie’s her baby girl, and she has an equivalent of food to give her hungry daughter. It’s not as if they live in a normal life in a normal world in any sense, and really Tess thinks she’s only blushing the way she is because somehow twelve years of an apocalypse hasn’t completely destroyed her socially-implemented sense of shame about her body. 

She has milk. 

Ellie’s hungry. 

She unbuttons her shirt slowly; Joel’s shirts are still oversized enough to be comfortable, and she only has to get half of the buttons open before her breasts are exposed. Ellie’s sitting back, watching with a curious, enamored little look on her face as Tess pulls a breast out of her bra cup. Pregnancy has changed so many things about her body, most of all her breasts. 

“You gotta - just gotta be gentle, okay?” Tess says, biting her lip somewhat nervously. “Don’t uh, don’t use your teeth and all.”

Ellie nods sagely, eyes tracking the pearly liquid gathering at the tip of her nipple. “I won’t bite.” She scoots forward on Tess’s lap carefully, maneuvering herself around her little sibling to keep her bony knees and elbows from hurting anyone. She curls herself around Tess’s belly, lets her legs dangle off her mother’s lap as she leans forward and latches on carefully. The sensation of it has Tess’s breath hitching sharply, but Ellie suckles in slow, tentative pulls, eyes watching her mother carefully. The milk that comes forth is a runny and tastes something between water and a little bit sweet, doesn’t really taste like anything, really, but Ellie latches her mouth firmer around Tess’s nipple and pulls more into her mouth.

Tess holds her instinctively; pulls her close and nearly rocks her, as much as she can with her belly. The feeling of Ellie’s mouth on her breast is strangely cathartic, emotional - she feels her chest swell with warmth that travels down through her core and then up into the edges of her fingertips as she brushes her daughter’s bangs away gently, smiles softly down at Ellie’s dozy face. “You feel better, hon? Tummy still hurt?”

The girl hums sleepily, nuzzling into Tess’s chest as she revels in the safe, warm scent of her mama, and the sweet taste of milk soothing her tummy. “Feel better,” she mumbles around Tess’s nipple, eyes scrunching contentedly as she pulls away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She lets out a soft little belch and giggles when Tess pokes her gently on the nose. 

“How’s it uh taste?” Tess asks, and Ellie nestles down into her side, murmuring contentedly. 

“Sweet,” she says. “A little bit. It’s nice.” She curls into a ball by her mama, savoring the warmth of the fire and a full belly as she feels her eyes beginning to droop. “Maybe….maybe later if there isn’t a snack, can I have some more?”

Tess hums, running her fingers gently through Ellie’s hair. The pressure in her left breast is lighter now, softer, but she feels the strain of it in her right one as it leaks gently into her bra still. “Sure, hon. If you’re hungry later.”

“Mmkay,” Ellie mumbles. “‘s nice ‘cause it taste good and it lets me cuddle you and baby brother-sister….”

Her words taper off suddenly, and Tess looks down with a fond little smile at the sight of her daughter passed out in her lap.

She’s still holding Ellie, beginning to doze herself, when Joel walks in. Ellie had woken up, mumbled and asked for a little bit more to Tess’ relief. She’s suckling sleepily on Tess’ right breast, and Joel jumps as he walks in, quite surprised at the sight. 

“I had to,” she says, by way of explanation, “she was so hungry.” Joel cracks something like a wistful smile. 

“Just not used to seein’ so much when I walk in,” he tells her. There’s fish on a line that he has to clean, a marvel catch of a rainbow trout that will be good to over the fire for dinner tonight, and berries picked from the forest. He’d even found some watercress by the riverside, and by sheer will and a desperate kind of need to feed his family, he’d also managed to catch a plump little rabbit in a snare. 

(He always has to remember to skin the thing before Ellie sees it. Memories from a lifetime ago always come back; calming tears over dead goldfishes flushed down porcelain and keeping wandering eyes straight ahead on the road to stop them from lighting on the mangled body of a poor raccoon on the side of the highway.)

He can feel the strain of the journey in his bones, dense and leaden. He can’t imagine what it must be like for Tess, to be carrying another human being inside her like this; she’s started aching in her back, her hips, her legs and again he feels like rush of guilt - shame that somehow he could’ve given her more, given her a better life that wasn’t them trekking across the country to find his elusive brother on the wing of a rumor they’d heard. ( _ How the fuck would Tommy have gotten this far out anyway? Who’s to say there won’t be anything waiting for them but dead bodies and moldering disease? _ )

But when he talks to her about it that night, after dinner, after he’s fried up the fish and packed the leftover rabbit in ice, hung the skins to dry, served the berries fresh for dessert to an Ellie who was only hungry enough to eat that part of her meal - Tess is happier than he’s seen her in weeks. She’d been drawn and tired-looking, exhausted, short-fused, and now she looks bright and pleased and tells him she feels like she’s useful again. She holds up a hand and gives him a look when he begins to go on about how she was never useless, and he knows to stop, but their eyes meet and he thinks he understands. Like the first game caught after a long draught. 

“If we don’t find anythin’ there,” he says, choking on the words as if he doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to have to  _ face  _ it, but Joel’s always prided himself to be a practical man, a logical man. “We’re gonna have to find somewhere to go that’s safe -”

“Old man.” She says it quietly, gentle with enough of that edge in her voice that he knows like the veins under his skin. “We’re gonna be fine. We’ll find him.” 

Joel swallows a sigh. “I heard that there’s a Zone out somewhere like Denver. From what I heard, ‘s still up and runnin’. Might be something worth - thinkin’ about.” They’re starting to move off from Colorado now, traversing overgrown forest edges and through broken freeways, and a part of him wishes almost that it were colder, or that Tess was further along, if only to coax her to chance a visit to the QZ.

Tess presses her lips together, rather anxiously. “I think - I think it’s just fine here. We’re not going to live here forever. We’re surviving, Joel.”

“Because we’re survivors.” He nods. “I know. But we got a kid. We got one on the way, too. It’s not -  _ safe _ , for them to grow up like this.”

“Nowhere is safe any more,” she huffs.

Joel sighs. He wanders to her, where she sits with arms folded in the armchair. (Well, not so much folded as clasped over her stomach. Folding of the arms doesn’t happen anymore.) “Hey.” He bends to slip his arms over her shoulders, although she still taps her fingertips anxiously against one another. Then his hands slip to cup her breasts, and Tess smirks.

“Careful,” she teases him. “These puppies are fully loaded.”

He chuckles. “Squirter top and bottom now, are ya?” He dodges a flailing slap, grinning widely at her in the firelight as Tess blushes and mutters at him a little breathlessly about  _ little ears, Joel _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pragmatically speaking, Tess letting Ellie breastfeed would be the best way of preventing their child from getting hungry and sick from being malnourished. I know breastmilk at that point isn't even breastmilk yet, it's just colostrum or "let-down", but colostrum's a really good immune system booster for little babbies and small derps like Ellie, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ OUT IN THE WASTES, YOU DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO, OKAY


	15. emergence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's a long journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some graphic descriptions of....things

The rest of the way shouldn't take them more than the end of the week, if he still remembers his geography right. If they can make up some time moving early in the morning into the dusk, Joel figures they might be able to at least find some other sign of Tommy somewhere. All he knows now is that there were _rumors_ of ex-Fireflies somewhere in Wyoming, huddled up by a dam and power plant. The temperatures are dropping low; Ellie's trekking up alongside Tess, shivering under two layers shirts, flickering crystals of ice beginning to cling to the edges of the trees. They're moving up along the riverside when Tess pauses in her step, shoulders hunched slightly over her belly.

Ellie peers up at her anxiously. "Mama?"

She takes a shuddering breath, and Joel moves up along with them, one hand on her back gently.

"Tessa..?" He frowns at the furrow of her brow, the pale line of her lips as she blows out a soft breath.

"'m fine," she murmurs, one hand coming to rest on the large curve of her belly. "'s just - I think he's movin' around a little too much. Hurts."

"Ooooh." Ellie mills around her worriedly, her small hands pressing against her Mama's belly in soft pets. "It's okay, little baby. Don't hurt Mama."

She places herself heavily on a mossy log, sitting curled around her belly as much as she can as the pains twinge up along her sides and spine. Her lip twitches in time with the sharp thrum that moves from low in her hips into her belly, and Tess rubs her hands over her belly anxiously. "Let's - it's getting late anyway. Let's just - I feel like maybe we could call it a night."

Joel squeezes his hands tight into fists to keep them from shaking. It's still light out; still fairly early into the evening - they'd be wasting a day, but at this rate he doesn't think he has the heart to make her move another step until the baby comes. But they're out in the open; no shelter, no trees, nowhere to drape tents and pull sleeping bags.

He can feel his heart pulsing up from his chest into his throat; the tremble of it in his fingertips. "It's not - you sure it ain't - contractions -"

Tess shakes her head sharply, lips pressed together tight but eyes wide as she looks at him. "C-can't be, right? 's too - 'm not there yet. It's too early to be labor."

She's verging eight - nine months, he thinks. They don't quite know anymore. She hasn’t filled out all that much; most of her is all baby now - her belly swollen large and taut under a spare shirt of his, the curve of her belly button showing through the thick flannel, and her breasts heavier and fuller. But her arms are still lean, her wiry frame made of nothing more than what muscle and fat it can spare.

Joel swallows thickly. "I don't know, hon." Ellie has draped herself over her mother’s lap, small face worried as she strokes her hands over Tess’s belly, murmuring soft things to her little sibling as Tess sucks in slow, deep breaths. “Maybe - Christ, I can’t remember what it’s called, but - but there’s this thing that happens sometimes. F-false labor.”

Tess peers up at him anxiously, teeth worrying the edge of her lip as she wraps an arm around Ellie’s small form. “Y-yeah. Maybe you’re right. False alarm.”

“Mama, are you gonna be okay?” Ellie whispers, staring up at her mother with eyes wide and gleaming.

She strokes Ellie’s hair soothingly, tries to give her a reassuring little smile that comes out a little more watery than she’d like. “‘m just fine, hon. Let’s - let’s get a move on, okay? See if - we can get somewhere warmer before dinner.”

By the time they reach some semblance of civilization, the last of the sunlight has faded behind the mountains, and the winds sweep around them in a whirl of cold and reproach. They find the remains of a dinky little town just off the base of the mountains - what’s left of a cheery little sign greets them with _Jackson, WY_ overhead of the town border, and Joel is all too relieved to find the red-brick of an inn standing vigil among the ruins.

“Daddy, it’s getting c-cold.” Ellie shivers as they climb over moldering wood and rubble piles, and struggles over them with one hand gripping tight to Tess’s. A towering pile blocks the way to the inn, and Joel digs out just enough of a crevice for them all to slip through comfortably. Tess hefts Ellie up with some struggle to where Joel is reaching down for her, but the added weight of the baby and bad footing has Tess stumbling to her knees. Ellie yelps as she’s dropped, landing with a grating thud as she slips, skidding over threads of ice and loose stone, and Ellie squeaks out a pained little cry as she tumbles into a heap.

“Ellie!”

Joel hauls her up into his arms, holding the girl close as she sniffles and looks at her sore hands and knees. “Oh -” He takes her little leg gently, bent at the knee, and inspects the patch of blood. Skin, scraped raw and dusted in sand and soot, and Ellie wails quietly as it bleeds.

Tess is there in an instant, eyes keen in the dark as she hears her daughter’s whimpers and sniffles, and reaches for her. “Is she okay? How bad -”

“Just a skinned knee,” Joel soothes her, pressing a kiss to Ellie’s tousled hair and reaching for a medical kit form his bag. He turns to Tess worriedly, reaches to touch her elbow as she purses her lips and looks away guiltily. “You alright? Y’went down pretty hard on your knees.”

“‘m fine,” she breathes, and reaches to scoop Ellie out of his arms. “‘s alright, baby girl; let’s get inside and get it cleaned up, okay? I’m so sorry, Ellie. Mama’s so sorry -”

“It hurts,” Ellie moans, pouting miserably as Tess fusses over the tear stains on her face, the grime on her cheeks. She doesn’t cry more, but she clings to Tess in the murky black of their temporary hotel room, nurses on her mother’s breast while Joel lights a fuel tablet over some kindling on the floor.

Joel dabs the alcohol onto her skinned knee gently, crooning soft nothings to her as Ellie squeaks and whines and mumbles tearfully around Tess’s breast. He wraps it in soft gauze and pads it gently with a strip of old flannel, kissing it gently the same way he used to kiss all of Sarah’s cuts and bruises. “There now. Better?”

Ellie nods sadly, burrowing deeper into Tess’s side. The fire crackles and warms them inside the enclosed space of the room; it’s been a long while since they’ve been inside shelter like this, and Ellie almost misses sleeping outside, beneath the sparkling stars. “Mama, are you okay now?” she asks Tess, petting the pronounced swell of Tess’s stomach. “Is baby brother-sister hurting you still?”

“No, baby,” Tess murmurs, laying her hand over her daughter’s smaller one. “Mama’s fine now.”

It’s a thin lie, but the adrenaline that surged through her at the sight of Ellie’s fall had been enough to take most of her mind off the burgeoning pulse of ache in her spine. It comes in waves; undulating almost, under her skin and inside bone, but Tess bites down hard on her lip and watches Joel heat up the rest of their stored fish and rabbits and greens instead.

 

\------

 

 

He remembers dreams like these; caught between dream and nightmare, a whirling mass of memories cut into a chaos of voices calling his name, begging in the cold light for something - _help, stay, wake up, don’t do this - Joel_ . Crowds of screams, gunfire, and death, cries that morph into inhuman shrieks as they’re torn down and devoured. He remembers running, running as fast as he could, arms full of Sarah, Ellie, Tess - _Daddy, Daddy, Joel, help, please, help_ -

His body jerks awake, eyes wide and dazed as he feels his body reconnect with the floating presence of his mind, remembers the cold of the outdoors seeping into his jacket and flannel, the merry spit of the logs burning in the fire. Joel feels the soft ice rustle against his sleeping bag as he turns into the firelight, catching sight of Ellie asleep, bundled up warm and comfy into the sleeping bag she shares with Tess. He turns again, straining to peer over Ellie’s small form to Tess, but he finds the space beside their daughter empty.

“ _Joel_.”

Joel frowns. “Tess?”

He becomes aware of the labored breathing, the heavy panting and moaning quiet in the night; more real than he is sure he is ready to face. Turning again, he hears a strained whimper; an urgent, keening moan of his name, and immediately he feels something more than the cold sink into his spine. “Tessa.” He shoves the sleeping bag off, scrambling up to his feet as he moves around the fireplace with limbs heavy with panic and sleep -

She’s hunched on her knees, breathing in sharp, wet breaths as she grips a resting log, her body trembling through a wave of pain every few minutes. Her hands have carved a place into the damp moss, her skin pale and sweat-slick in the dim light, but Joel feels his heart clench tight in his chest at the way she lifts her head to him, wide-eyed and frightened and young and hurting.

“Tess, what - ?”

She shakes her head, gusting out a long, heavy breath before she flinches again. “‘m sorry,” she whispers, in a voice weak with pain and effort. “I tried - I didn’t - I didn’t know it was r-real.” Her hands are cradling her belly, teeth sinking hard into her lip to stop herself from crying out, coming more as pitiful, aching whines in intervals that come closer and closer. Her body arches sharply, and Tess lets out a strained cry that cuts deep into his bones.

“Nevermind that, never - Jesus, sweetheart -.” He presses himself around her, tries desperately to wrap his arms around her and hold her. He can feel her muscles locked tight, all of her body braced to deliver their child, and Joel reaches with a trembling hand to smooth her hair back off her face. Her skin is pale and slick under his hand, sweating coldly in the night, her eyes glazed and faraway that comes through clear every time he feels her body clench through a contraction.

“You’re gonna be okay, hon,” he croaks, his stomach wrenching and roiling hot bile up to his throat. “‘s alright, you’re doin’ okay.”

He tries to ease her onto her back, to lie down and rest but Tess chokes on a cry, shaking her head frantically and rising higher on her knees. She flails out a hand for his, smearing blood and sweat and fluids over his skin as she guides his hand down between her damp, shaking thighs. He fights the urge to recoil; to jerk his hand back, frightened of what he might feel, but he lets her press his trembling hand over where her skin is bulging and thin, feel the slick heat of blood where their baby is already midway through crowning already.

His heart thuds into his throat, nearly swooning in the dark as Tess heaves and pants in such deep, hard breaths and rocks on her knees he worries she'll lose consciousness. “H-how long - Jesus, Tessa - you been like this all night?”

Tess doesn’t answer; can’t - she makes a high, sustained sound and suddenly he feels her skin beginning to split, tear under his hand. He makes a panicked sound despite himself, scrambling to rip his jacket off his body, speechless, afraid that he'd only lose his own breath, trying desperately to stop the bleeding from where she's split open around their baby and its head moving slowly along the birth canal.

It’s all happening too quickly, he doesn’t know how to help, what to do. There should be a bed, warmth, comforting things to give to Tess while she labored with their child, but here she’s kneeling weak against him and braced on a log, bleeding red and bright and coppery between her legs where she’s torn open. He presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead, shaking nearly as hard as she is, murmuring to her words that he doesn’t even register, but Tess is heaving hard breaths, whimpering in between pushes.

“It hurts,” she whines suddenly, high and urgent and her nails sinking into his arm as she braces herself wider on her knees, bears down with effort. “F-feels like - feels - ‘s somethin’ wrong -”

“Easy, easy,” he soothes her, feels his own voice tremoring in his throat as he hushes her gently, tries to dab her tears and sweat away with the ends of his flannel, kisses her cheek gently. “Don’t worry, hon, ‘s okay, we’ll - be okay.” He moves his hand gently down between her legs again, feels where the top of the baby’s head has bulged through. It’s got a generous head of hair, that much he knows, but he can’t find the strength to pull himself away from holding her long enough to look.

Tess lets out a strangled sound through gritted teeth, eyes wide and flashing, but unseeing as she rocks back against his hand and bears down hard. She lowers her head onto an arm, swallowing a low sob as Joel cups the emerging head of their baby. Every nerve in her body feels lit aflame, fused with agony that resonates from inside her very bones, cut deep into her marrow as she strains hard, biting down against the burgeoning pressure in her spine as the baby slides lower and lower.

Her cries peter off into a low, keening whine as the head finally, _finally_ slips through, and Tess feels the strength in her hands and knees being to wane as she collapses against the log with a sob.

“Oh, Christ -”

The baby comes slowly into his hands; wrinkly and blueish and covered in white sinew, its face squished and frowning as if already upset at its departure from its mother. Joel finally releases his hold on Tess’s shoulders, moving down to kneel between her knees. There’s blood smeared along her thighs, streaking across the baby’s skin as he coaxes it out, murmuring lowly to Tess, “push, hon, ‘s okay, nice and slow now -”

“I can’t breathe,” she chokes, struggling weakly onto her hands and knees again. “J-Joel, I c-can’t - hhnnnnff -” Her body contorts suddenly, and Joel feels a gush of blood and birth water rushing down his hands as the baby comes free.

It lies limp in his arms, face blue and soft as he rubs at it, remembers from some distant place in his mind the way the nurses had scrubbed at Sarah’s tiny form almost roughly, coaxing out the tiny, mewling cries from her throat as she sucked in lungfuls of air. Joel cradles it close, wiping at discolored skin and dabbing, patting at its fragile back until finally his child - his son - opens its purplish mouth and wails.

“Oh - oh, Tessa, Tessa -”

He bundles the boy to his chest, swaddled in his jacket, gurgling with lungs that are seizing and wrenching in its chest for its first breath. The umbilical cord is still pulsing on its belly, and Joel looks at Tess with a giddy smile, a grin beginning to form amidst tears pooling in his eyes -

Tess lies sprawled over the log, limp and pale, the blood on her thighs stark against her skin.

He feels his blood run cold.


	16. divinity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie meets her new little brother, and Tess goes away to a far away place.

He crawls to her frantically, the baby nestled into the crook of an arm as he reaches to Tess, shakes her gently by her shoulder, feeling the cold fear gripping his stomach, weaving its way up into the pounding in his chest. “Tessa, c’mon - c’mon now, l-look -” He tries to hold the baby up, pushes the jacket wrap under his son’s chin for Tess to see, but her eyes are shut, her face smooth and too pale, her breath ragged and low in her chest. “T-Tessa - please -”

He cups her cheek, tries to touch her, but the blood on his fingers run streaks over her damp cheek, and Joel recoils as if he’s struck her. “Oh -” The sight of it on her skin makes his stomach roil and tighten, and the baby squirms in his hold, whimpering wet and thick from the fluids in its throat.

“Daddy?”

He whirls, breath caught in his chest almost in a whine as he sees Ellie roll awake, rubbing her eyes from sleep as she stumbles to him. “Ellie, honey - hon, you - you help me grab my huntin’ knife.” He reaches out one bloodstained hand to point, shaky fingers moving, and Ellie gasps at the sight of it.

“Honey, please,” he begs, his voice a strained whine. “You get my bag now -”

“Daddy!” She runs over, stumbling down onto her knees as she catches sight of her mother, the crumpled way Tess is resting on the log, the way there is blood everywhere and the smell of it thick amidst the fire, and Ellie stares wide-eyed at her father, frightened and confused. “Daddy, what’s wrong? What’s happening? Why’s Mama sleeping like that?” She looks into his arms, gasping again and clapping her hands to her cheek. “Oh - oh Daddy, is that - is that baby brother-sister?”

She crawls to him warily, eyes darting from Tess’s prone figure to the squirming bundle, enamored at the small, wrinkly little face scrunched up in her daddy’s jacket.

Joel clutches the baby to his chest, sucking in a shaky, deep breath to quell the rising panic in his chest the longer Tess remains motionless. “Y-yeah, hon,” he tells Ellie, blinking through the tears as he adjusts the baby in his arms, lets Ellie peer into its little face. “T-this here’s your little brother, baby girl. H-he’s a little - little bit early, but he’s just fine.”

Ellie bites her lip, turning her head to where Tess is lying still, moving from her father’s side to touch her mother’s cheek hesitantly. “M-mama?” She presses in close, wiping the sweat from Tess’s face with her small hands as she brackets her mother’s face with them, her little fingers pressing into pale cheeks. “Mama? Are you - why is she not waking up?”

“I don’t -” Joel swallows thickly, “h-here hon, c’mere, c’mere, please -.” He urges Ellie closer, aching to get to his backpack, grab for everything he can think of - gauze, his knife, the medpack for something, anything to wake Tess. “Now, sit here, hon, don’t - move too far, alright? See this here? That’s the birth cord. I gotta - I gotta cut that ‘cause he’s still connected to Mama, but I need you to hold him for me, okay? Don’t - you gotta help Daddy out.”

Ellie shuffles to him anxiously, and Joel urges her down to sit, resting the fragile little bundle carefully into her lap. “Ooh, Daddy, he’s a little heavy.” She reaches a tentative hand to pet his tuft of dark hair, a small fingertip to brush the tip of his little button nose, and Joel feels like he could smile, should smile; this is his baby girl, and his son, but all he can think of now is the twisting, ugly sense of dread burrowing into his gut.

“Yeah hon, he’s a chubby little fella, isn’t he?” He moves to Tess, pressing her legs apart gently. “‘s gonna be alright, honey, we’ll get Mama wakin’ up in no time.” He lunges for his bag, not trusting himself to walk, crawling back and forth as he yanks up gauze, his knife, shoves a canteen of water over the fire shakily to boil. “Honey - you try - you try talkin’ to Mama, okay? You try - try wakin’ her up.”

Ellie inches as close as she can to her mother, sucking in shuddering, nervous breaths herself as the baby squirms and makes small, pitiful sounds in his jacket swaddle on her lap. “Mama, you’re gonna be okay,” she tells Tess, brushing the loose tendrils of hair stuck to Tess’s face, gently touching her cool skin until Tess moans and twitches, and though her brows furrow, her eyes remain fluttering beneath her eyelids. “He’s - he’s really squishy, Mama. ‘s soft and - and kinda looks like Daddy.” She stares imploringly into her mother’s face, hugging her little brother close. 

“Please wake up, Mama.”

\------

 

_ She feels like she’s floating somewhere; caught between air and water, weightless and sinking both, but when she looks down she sees solid ground beneath her feet. Her body sways in place, like the long-forgotten muscle memory of liquor or blood loss or something between both, and Tess squints out into the murky air, the ripples of fog and sea foam that meld together all at once as nothing and everything. She can hear voices in the distance, muffled and echoing like through a tunnel she can’t quite see the end of, and Tess curls her arms around herself protectively, dares to call out into the damp and resounding space. _

_ “Hello?” _

_ It moves like through a corridor of caves, ripples of her own voice sounding back to her from every direction, and Tess feels her heart thudding clearly into the drums of her ears, fluttering too-quick and whooshing like the sounds of a machine-translated sound - _

_ “Hi.” _

_ Tess gasps, spinning around in alarm. “Hello??” She squeezes into herself, feeling oddly empty, as if she should be somehow holding more than just the lean meat of her arms, as if there should be something more between her arms and her body. “Who’s there?” _

_ She peers into the empty roiling fog hopefully, wishing some kind of shape into materializing before her. Something human, something real. “J-Joel?” _

_ A faint, flickering shape emerges, solid and careful as it treads through the crunching wet leaves and stone of unseen forestry, and Tess steps back warily as she makes out a rather short, slender frame. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A pretty heart-shaped face. Freckles on her nose.  _

_ Tess stares. “You - are you -” she stumbles back in fear. “You can’t be.” _

_ The girl smiles apologetically, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and shifts in her pajama pants and shirt. It should be cold, but it isn’t. “I didn’t think I’d get to meet ya this early, but - hi. I’m Sarah.” _

 

\------

 

“Jesus, Jesus, don’t you quit on me now, Tessa.” Joel grips her shoulders in his hands desperately, forehead-to-forehead with the woman, nearly sobbing her name again as he shakes her gently. He’s maneuvered her off the log, braced her as gently as he could with all of their sleeping bags rolled to keep her resting as comfortably as he can, but the dead weight of her throughout it all had only put bile thicker in his throat. “Tess, wake up, c’mon. You gotta - the placenta -”

He’s nearly lightheaded from the panic; how is he supposed to get it out? He knows it needs to come out, knows it can’t stay inside or there will be no way to keep it from rupturing, from bleeding inside Tess and keeping her asleep forever. He remembers that from the books - from a time when there were doctors who knew what to do, hospitals that were clean and safe and comfortable. Not here, not this; this place in the damp of a dilapidated building with a dying fire and a young child whimpering uncertainly as she held her newborn brother in her lap. 

Joel presses a trembling kiss to Tess’s cheek. “‘s gonna be alright,” he promises her, sliding his hands soothingly along her softened belly, feeling the muscles beneath her skin rippling softly. The afterbirth contractions. “‘m gonna make it better, sweetheart.”


	17. oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short update is short but this is just to make sure people don't think that 
> 
> 1) I'm dead  
> 2) Tess is dead  
> 3) this fic is dead

_ She feels like she can’t breathe. _

_ Then again, she doesn’t think she needs to, here. _

_ “Where...am I?” It’s all too dark, too foggy; too everything. She tries to squint through the trees, to make sense of something - anything. Was she back where they were before? There was a building, she remembers, a place made of red brick and not crumbling as badly as the others. She remembers that. “Am I -” _

_ “You’re not dead,” Sarah - what she thinks is Sarah - says patiently. She even has the same quiet, lopsided little smile Joel makes sometimes, when he thinks she’s not looking. It could be eerie, but Tess feels the warmth of it instead; the familiarity of the smile that she has seen so many times, in so many parts of her life. “You’re just somewhere in between.” _

_ Tess rubs her hands along her arms, rubbing away the prickling of her skin that somehow does not feel anything hot or cold or anything at all. “Where is….everything? If I’m not dead, then what am I?” She feels a lump building in her throat, as if there are words stuck inside her chest, waiting to bubble over and speak themselves, but she opens her mouth again, and no sound comes. _

_ Sarah sweeps her hand through the air, and the air itself curls like a twining fog. Time and space are different things here. “You’re....here.” _

\-----

The umbilical cord is cut with his hunting knife and tied off with his shoelace, both cleaned off with boiled water over the fire as Ellie holds her baby brother and clings to Tess’s limp hand with her own. The baby is snuffling and weak, flailing its small fists against the bundle he is in, and Joel shows Ellie how to hold her brother against Tess’s chest to feed, tries to steady his trembling hands before he pushes Tess’s legs open again.

“‘s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, speaks it like prayer. “‘s gonna be alright.”

He massages the space of her hips and belly in steady, coaxing motions, pressing down from her belly into her hips, urging the placenta out with one hand gently pulling at the cord. It’s a delicate procedure, too delicate to be placed in hands like his, but Joel has no choice - no choice here in this space within broken walls and flickering fire, with his daughter sitting teary-eyed and frightened with her newborn brother suckling at her mother’s breast.

His hands are slicked with blood, and the smell of it coils sharp in his nose, brings bile into the back of his throat to know that this is her blood; the blood she’s spilled to bring their son to life. With fingers coiling slippery and clumsy over the cord, he whispers to Tess quiet little urging words as he pulls, rubs his hand over her belly and presses down still as his eyes track her smooth, unmoving face.

“C’mon, Tess, c’mon now. You’re almost done, sweetheart, almost - almost through this. Just a little more, sweetheart, and we’ll be done.”

There is a faint ripple through her belly, and he sees the barest flutter of her eyelids.  

\------

_ “What do you remember?” _

_ She wrinkles her brow. “Wyoming? I feel like...I’m not dreaming, am I.” _

_ Sarah shrugs, gesturing around her with delicate hands that are smudged in deep rust brown. Tess looks at her again and realizes there are patches of blood on her shirt. A streak of dirt across her cheek, and smudges where someone had pressed their face against her. “I guess you can call this Limbo.” There are trees that sway in no breeze, a fog that moves without moving at all. “Everyone sees something different, and I guess this...is your version of the In-Between.” _

_ Tess can’t help but feel some sense of irony in all of this. Whatever it was that she’d always imagined, it certainly wasn’t this. “Guess all those years at Catholic school were for nothing. You - I don’t understand. You’re....Joel’s daughter.” Joel’s  _ **_dead_ ** _ daughter. The one he never spoke about; never when he was sober, at least. _

_ “Yup,” Sarah replies easily, as easily as she would to a random question like ‘what do you want for dinner?’ “In the ethereal flesh.” _

_ Tess blows out a breath, helpless and annoyed somewhat at her lack of understanding of anything outside of the fear gripping her insides. “So - what do I do? How do I go back?” She has to get back to them; has to get back to Ellie, to their little girl who was probably so scared and crying and Joel left alone to take care of her. _

_ Sarah hums thoughtfully. “Well, that’s your decision. I’m here to make sure you make the right one. Try to remember where you are.” _

_ A rush of memories come to her like the fog gripping her ankles, so powerful she has to step back, recoil. “Wyoming...we’re...we’re trekkin’ through Wyoming, looking for your uncle.” Her hands go down instinctively to her belly; soft and flat. Her fingers spread and panic fills her eyes. “I - I had a baby - where is it??” She remembers only flashes - pain, blood, the smell of tears and blood and fear amidst the smoky fire. The vague sound of Joel’s words in her ears, the sound of a baby’s cry before everything went cold. _

_ Is it a boy or a girl? Is it alive? _

_ She feels a cool touch on her arm, and Tess jumps. Sarah’s small hand is curled gently over her elbow, squeezing like the gentle mist of a dewy morning, present and yet not at all. Her other hand is sweeping gently over Tess’s belly, and with it she feels a ripple of movement inside, a heavy, roiling movement of something pressing out of her body. _

_ She sucks in breath and screams. _

\-----

Joel lurches back in surprise when Tess jerks under his hold, a screaming tearing from her throat, low and hoarse and so sudden that Ellie screams as well, bursting into sobs. He chokes on her name, and the placenta slips out onto the ground with a wet thud. “Tessa! Oh, Jesus Christ, Tess -”

Her head lolls to the side, eyes fluttering and darting in confusion as she mumbles something under her breath, slurring and disoriented. Ellie is sobbing beside her, choking on her own breath,  _ m-ama, mama, daddy why did she scream? I’m scared, daddy - _

“Sarah,” Tess moans, head dropping back onto the bundled pack. “Sarah, what’re you doing -”

He feels his body grow cold at the name, nausea that threatens to break free as he bundles the placenta into the bloodstained rags of his shirt. It feels like a thousand needles piercing his skin, a million knives flaying into each layer of meat on his body, carving deep into his bones and splitting them open for the marrow, but still he lays a gentle hand on Tess’s knee, and manages to choke out his words.

“‘s not - S-Sarah, hon. That’s - that’s Ellie. That’s our little Ellie girl.”

“Help me,” Tess mumbles, eyes flickering beneath her lids as sweat begins to build along her hairline, her breath shallow and ragged. “Help me, Sarah, Sarah -”

He cups her face with a shaking hand, and for a moment Tess’s eyes focus enough to see him. “Joel,” she sighs, almost in relief. “Oh, Joel…”

“‘m gonna make it better, sweetheart,” he promises her. But when he moves to his feet, tries to get more gauze and hot water to clean her, he hears the sound of distant voices; the trundle of an engine rolling to an idle stop. His heart pounds, adrenaline fresh in his veins again, and Joel swears under his breath as he presses close to the window, peers out into the darkness and early purple light to see the moving shadows through the buildings. “ _ Fuck _ .”

“Daddy, what’s happening?” Ellie whines, hugging her little brother close to her body as Joel drops to his knees beside her, bundling the baby tight and then checking on her own jacket, zipping it up and wrapping his scarf around her neck. “Daddy -” she’s hauled up to her feet, and Ellie hiccups nervously at the look on her father’s face. The baby weighs heavy in her arms, but Ellie hugs him close, holds him as well as she can.

Joel presses his lips together, ears straining to hear the sound of people coming closer - hunters, raiders, something, whatever it is, they’re coming their way. “Ellie, you gotta listen to me,” he says urgently. “Honey, you gotta run, okay? You gotta take your baby brother and you run.”

She stares at him in fear. “B-but where’ll you be?” Her eyes dart to Tess. “How’s Mama gonna wake up?”

“We’ll catch up.” He’s already trying to wrap some form of a sling around Ellie to support the weight of the baby; the small, squashy thing that is asleep now and content from being held and fed. He crouches by her and looks into her tearstained face, eyes soft but grim as he gently dabs her tears away. He sucks in a deep breath and holds her by her shoulders. “You follow the river, okay? If the water runs down, you run up, okay? You keep goin’ up there, and you don’t stop ‘til you find a place where they know Tommy Miller. You tell them that your daddy’s name’s Joel Miller, and you’re lookin’ for your uncle. Okay? You don’t stop until you find him.” His grip tightens briefly over her shoulders, and Joel hears his voice shake.

“You keep movin’ forward.”


	18. peak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run, little rabbit, run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There isn’t much time left; he can hear the crunch of wheels and the footsteps of men coming closer. He doesn’t know who they are, but all he can focus on is the frightened face of his daughter, his newborn son swaddled in what little they have, the sound of Tess’s disoriented moans. With trembling hands he pulls Ellie and her baby brother close, cradles them to him in one last, desperate moment, tries to remember the sweet innocent smell of her, the feel of her in his arms, the quiet burblings of a son he might never see grow up. 

“Run, baby girl,” he chokes, stroking through her hair. “It’ll be okay.”

Ellie bites her lip, eyes wide with uncertainty as she looks at her father for a long moment, and then she turns on her little legs, and runs in the opposite direction as fast as she can go. He watches her until she is nothing more in the formidable darkness, and then Joel lets himself sag down further onto his knees. His chest reverberates with a shuddering breath before he turns back to Tess. “We’ll get you back on your feet, hon,” he promises her, but when his fingers graze her skin his first instinct is to recoil.

She’s burning to the touch. 

Joel bites down hard on his lip. He should’ve known she would be feverish; if not the birthing itself, then the removal of the afterbirth has all but drained Tess’s body of what little strength it had left. It’s all he can do to wrap her up in what other coats and blankets they have left, shielding her from the cold of the night. Her head drops against his chest and she moans, a weak, quiet sound, and Joel presses his lips to her forehead. 

“Hold on, Tessa, just hold on,” he whispers. “‘s gonna be okay, I promise.”

_ “Kevin! Take Joe and search out back, I can smell fire from inside.” _

_ “Yeah, why don’t ya yell it louder so they can hear us, smartass.” _

_ “Just fuckin’ do it, man -” _

Joel fumbles for his gun. Kicking out the fire would do them no good, and putting it out would only mean exposing Tess to the elements more. The smell of blood is thick even amidst the burning wood, but Joel pulls Tess up against his chest, bracing her gently as he pushes them closer to the fire. 

Tess makes a miserable whimper, her clammy hands clutching at nothing. “Joel…?”

“Shh, baby.” He presses his lips to her hair again, gun steady in his grip. “Ain’t gonna hurt no more after this.”

 

\-----

 

 

She runs as far and as fast as her little legs can take her. It's a struggle not to make a sound; but she tries not to breathe as hard, or stomp through the underbrush. The baby is heavy in her arms, and her legs are weak, and though she knows it in her bones; she doesn't understand why she could not stay. She knows her mother is bleeding, and Ellie thinks the frightening thought in her mind that she might not see Tess again, or Joel. 

All she has left is her baby brother. 

“It’s okay,” she says, her small voice coming out a pitiful whine as she fights back tears. There’s still so much space ahead of her - how can she run that far? The baby whimpers against her chest, and Ellie staggers slightly, but she can still hear the noise from the place where Mama and Daddy had been. 

She keeps moving. 

“I’ll protect you,” she mumbles, wiping her snotty nose on a sleeve. “I’ll - t-take you somewhere s-safe.”

The baby squirms against her, and Ellie gives him a shaky little head pat, huddling beneath the underbrush as she catches her breath. She nuzzles her face into his dark head of hair; he smells like blood still, and dirt and musty clothes, but she also thinks he smells sweet, soft, like a little baby. 

She stands on trembling feet, and she runs again. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been running, breathless and dizzy and almost falling over more times than she can think. The baby is fussing louder now; small, hiccupping cries that come in between the rush of her own feet against the ground and her heavy breaths. The road seems endless ahead of her, nothing but clear dirt roads and old tracks, and Ellie feels tears of frustration start to pool in her eyes. She can only hear the ringing in her ears now, the cottony feeling like when she sticks her head under blankets and pillows, as if hearing everything from underwater. 

She remembers being cuddled under the blankets. Sandwiched between Joel and Tess and making her an Ellie sandwich; laughing and whispering under the covers with her mama before Joel would descend upon them like a big roaring bear. 

Her daddy.

She skids to a stop in the slippery mud in front of a towering walls, falling to her knees and scraping them on the jagged stones. Hot tears burst under her eyelids again, and finally it’s all too much.

“ _ HELP! _ ” she wails, and through her sobs she only just hears the baby start to cry too. “HELP ME, PLEASE, PLEASE HELP MY MAMA!”

There’s a rush of feet running around from above the wall - a blonde head pokes out from the top, aiming a gun down at her. “Who are you?” the woman shouts, and Ellie crumbles, sitting back on her haunches and then finally collapsing under the weight of the baby, blubbering and whimpering miserably.

“Help,” she sobs, nearly voiceless from exertion. “Help me, help my mama - my d-daddy’s name is J-Joel - Joel Mi-Miller. My daddy’s name is Joel Miller. My - my - mama -”

The great doors grind open, and Ellie yelps, clutching to her brother desperately, sitting in the mud with dirty clothes and skinned knees bleeding. She can hardly see anything through her tears, can only hear the sound of heavy footsteps and the voice of a man calling out something to the woman -

“Miller, you said? Joel Miller?”

He crouches by her side suddenly, and Ellie whimpers, hugging the baby close. She chokes on a breath and nods, peeling back the baby’s swaddling with a trembling hand. “M-my mama - she’s blee-bleeding and - daddy said - to come here,” her voice peters off into a low whine, and the baby squalls with her. 

The man takes hold of her shoulders, guiding her gently to her feet, and Ellie blinks back the tears long enough to look into his face. 

“‘s alright, little one,” he says to her soothingly, reaching behind her to unweave the baby’s bundlings from her small body. Ellie gasps and squeaks in protest, reaching to take her brother back, but the man cradles him gently, and takes her small hand. He crouches down and looks at her with eyes that she thinks she’s seen before. 

“I know Joel Miller,” he murmurs, and from behind him she can see the woman approaching. “I know your daddy, sweetheart.”

Ellie sucks in a shuddering breath, swaying on her feet. All of her hurts. “‘m lookin’ for - my uncle. Daddy said to find my uncle. His name -”

“Tommy,” the man says, and Ellie nods eagerly, staggering into his arms in relief. “I’m - I’m Tommy Miller, sweet thing. Oh - Christ - honey, honey girl, you tell me where your mama and daddy are,” he coaxes her urgently, passing the squirming bundle to the blonde woman behind him.

“Town,” Ellie whimpers weakly, her small hands clinging to his shirt. “Mama had the baby and then -”

“Tommy.” The woman’s voice frightens her. “Tommy, this baby’s - he’s newborn.”

Tommy wraps himself tighter around Ellie, and she hears him swear under his breath. “ _ Fuck _ , fuck - Christ, Joel - Maria, call Kevin, get - Kevin on the damn line now!”

Ellie stares blearily at them, each breath shuddering and stilted as she watches anxiously while Maria yells something into a walkie talkie, cradling her brother in the other arm. “Mama’s gonna die, isn’t she?” she whispers numbly. She feels underwater again. “There was a lotta blood.”

He strokes her hair and braces her head against his neck, moving quickly up through the path behind the wall. “She’s gonna be just fine, sweetheart,” he hushes her, breaking into a jog. “She’s gonna be okay.” He yanks a blanket off a post and wraps her in it, rubbing her down vigorously as Maria comes through the gates as well, shouting more orders at people. 

Tommy touches her cheek gently, and Ellie sees him for the first time. He doesn’t look all that much like her daddy, but she thinks their eyes are the same. “Can you tell me your name, precious?”

“Ellie.” She shivers under the blankets; clutching it close reminds her of Tess, and Ellie feels more tears squeezing out from her aching eyes. “M-mama - wrapped me in blankies too -”

“Shh, now, shh.” He strokes her hair with a gentle hand, trembling somewhat as he tucks a strand behind her ear and wipes a streak of dirt from her face. The blanket is long enough to cover all of her, but he tugs a rag from a pocket and dabs at her bloodied knees gingerly, wiping most of the blood away. “You know what your Mama’s name is, Ellie? What’s your Mama’s name?”

“Tess,” she chokes, sniffling. “My m-mama’s name’s Tess.”

Tommy drops the rag. “T-ess?”

Ellie nods miserably, reaching down to rub at her aching knees. “It hurts bad,” she mumbles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “But mama’s hurt worse.”

He scoops up the rag and dabs at her knees again, murmuring to her with a different kind of strength in his words now. “We’ll find your mama, Ellie. We’ll take care of her. I swear it. Right now, let’s take care of you and your little brother, yeah?”

 

 

\-------

 

 

 

The next thing Ellie remembers is waking up. She hadn’t realized she’d gone to sleep. It happened sometimes, back home, when she would snuggle in between her parents and she had eaten too much. She doesn’t remember when was the last time she ate. The bed under her is soft, better than the sleeping bags on the floor they’ve been sleeping in, but all of Ellie hurts. Her feet, her legs, her knees - her arms and chest and throat and eyes. 

It hurt to move, even, but Ellie struggles upright, making small, whimpering sounds in her throat as she rubs sleep from her eyes and peers around the room in confusion. 

Her eyes widen.

“Mama!” The scream reverberates through the room, and Ellie scrambles off the bed, yanking at the door handle desperately. She tears down the hallway of a house she’s never seen before, frantic and sobbing until she runs head first into Maria.

“Easy, Ellie, it’s okay,” she soothes, but Ellie’s shaking her head and sobbing, bawling for her mother again and again. 

“My brother, my baby brother,” she wails, and Maria hushes her again, unfolding a bundle in her arms. 

“He’s here, sweetheart, he’s here!” 

Ellie bites down on a whimper and reaches to touch the baby worriedly, running her small hands over his squashy face, touching his cheeks and checking for wounds and hurtful things. The baby burbles at her, poking his tongue out and squirming, and Ellie lets out a shuddering breath. 

“Where’s - mama?” she asks, squeezing her hands into tight fists at her side. “I - I shouldna go to bed! I shoulda - shoulda kept with baby brother!”

Maria strokes her hair slowly, her mouth pulled into a grim line as she rises back to her full height. “Come here, hon. We’re gonna wait for your mama and daddy, okay? I sent my guys to find them.” She holds out a hand, and Ellie presses hers into it tentatively.

“Are they gonna hurt them?” she presses, peering into Maria’s face with all the severity a child can muster. 

Maria strokes her thumb over Ellie’s hand, shaking her head. “They’re the good guys. We’re gonna make sure that your mama gets taken care of real good, okay? See - they’re coming in right now.”

There’s the sound of trundling outside - trucks, like back in the Zone, and Ellie can hear people shouting things back and forth. “How long was mama gone?” she asks anxiously. “People die when there’s so much blood like that -”

“They found her alive,” Maria tells her gently, a sad look on her face as she looks down across the courtyard. “They found your mama and daddy alive.”

Ellie feels her heart hammering in her chest, fast like fear and when she was running so hard. It blocks her throat, and Ellie looks out into the yard as the truck rolls to the stop in the middle of the yard and everyone comes rushing to it. She pulls at Maria’s hand.

Maria holds her there firmly. “You wait here with me, okay?” she tells Ellie quietly, eyes distant and mouth a thin line. “You wait here with me so the medics can get to your mama and help her, okay?”  _ You wait here so you won’t have to see anything else.  _

“But -” Ellie stares at the woman pleadingly, looking from the truck to Maria, and back to the truck. She can see the door opening, Joel spilling out with Tess in his arms, the dark spread of blood around her clothes and on his arms. She can’t find the words to shout for her daddy, for her mama - only feels a cold fear gripping her stomach and holding tight as she watches Tess’s face, so pale and smooth. She remembers seeing a dead man once. Down by the wharf, when she still stole beer and cards for Ace. She remembers sneaking into his huddled little box, and found him curled up in the cold, frozen like ice. He looked as her mother did now; asleep, unmoving.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight and lets out a strangled wail.


	19. resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tess wakes

It feels like a lifetime before she peels her eyes open. Everything around her is swimming, pulsing in and out of her vision, and when Tess comes back into her body, the first thing she realizes is that she’s completely paralyzed by pain. Everything  _ hurts  _ \- it hurts to breathe, to blink, to move. Her body throbs in protest of simply existing, and Tess feels like she could cry out, scream, but her throat is sealed shut, dry and thick. 

She tries to move her head, shaking all over, staring confusedly at her surroundings; white walls and a light on the ceiling shaped like an orb glowing above her. 

Her heart clots in her throat - where is she?

All of her feels like stone, and when Tess wants nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep, sleep forever. But there’s a lingering dissonance in her chest, hollow and searching for something - searching for her baby girl, her Joel, her family. She fights aching muscles to lift an arm, straining against bones locked tight from disuse; fights against her own body to move, and finally she gets her fingers reaching shakily for her belly. 

She sucks in a breath, takes a breath deeper than she’s been able to in months. Her belly is flatter, not taut and full and heavy. She doesn’t feel the weight of her child, the roiling kicks that usually followed every time she touched her stomach. 

Her eyes snap wide open, and tears pool hot at the edges of them.

_ Where is her baby? _

She strains, neck twisting stiffly to look around the room frantically. Her heart pounds in her chest, building up with hot bile in her throat as she searches. Where’s her baby? Where’s Ellie? How did she get here? 

Her nails dig into the cotton of the sheets, a strangled sound caught in the hoarse lines of her throat. She must’ve lost the baby. There’s no other explanation for it. She can’t remember anything outside of pain, just endless, endless pain, and flickering images of a distant foggy place. 

She’s failed. Again. 

Always.

There's something pinning her to the bed - not like her once-pregnant belly, no. Not smothering against her lungs and chest, but clinging against her side, like an arm, or the body of a very small - 

She gasps. "E-Ellie." Her lips crack and split; blood sharp like acid on her tongue as she moves parts of her that she doesn’t think has moved in days. 

The little lump pressed against her side squirms sleepily, soft murmuring sounds coming from beside her, and Tess feels more hot tears running down her face. 

Ellie blinks awake slowly, pushing upright and wiping the sand from her eyes with a fist. "M-ama?" Her green eyes blink, and then go wide - "Mama! MAMA!"

Tess winces at the pitch of her little cries, grimacing almost in relief as she reaches for her daughter. “E-llie -”

“Daddy! Daddy, Daddy, Mama’s awake! She’s alive!” The little girl presses herself that much closer to Tess, hugging her tight around the middle, and Tess fights the urge to recoil from the jostling of it. All of her is aching still, but she manages to stroke trembling fingers through her daughter’s hair, choking through a well of emotions in her throat,  _ Ellie, Ellie, baby girl  _ -

Something creaks just off the side of the bed, and Tess turns to it to find a rocking chair creaking upright; sees the man folded down into it. The sight of him catches in her throat too, breathless - “ _ Joel _ .”

He’s staring at her slack-jawed, eyes wide and exhausted but still filled with so much relief, so much hope. “Tessa,” he croaks, shifting the bundle in his arms. “Tessa, you’re ‘wake -”

He surges out of the rocking chair so fast, is by her side in half a stride. Suddenly she’s swept up against his chest, held and crushed and pressed against his body, remembering the smell of his musk and sweat and dust on his skin; the salt of stale tears in his sleeve as he buries his face into her hair. Again and again, she hears him murmuring her name like prayer, like incantations she remembers somewhere deep in her mind, the same voice calling her from a distant land. 

She clings to him with fingers aching with disuse, sinking into the material of his flannel shirt - how, always flannel, always pine-scented? “J-oel-”

“Jesus, Jesus, Tess,” he breathes, and she can hear the tears in his words. “Thought you were - thought you weren’t ever gonna wake up - thought - Jesus -”

The bundle between them squirms, burbling and snuffling in small sounds that sound so out of place, so foreign to her amidst her baby girl’s whimpering sniffles. She pulls back uncertainly, reaching to cup his cheek, stroke over the heavy shag of his beard, unkempt and overgrown from the days they’ve journeyed - from the days she’d spent asleep. His face is pulled thin, gaunt and weary with his eyes sunken and red. She looks down into his arms, and it’s as if all the air escapes from her lungs.

It’s a baby -  _ their  _ baby. Small, but squashy-looking and squirming, with such a small little nose, and such delicate lashes, and oh, its little tongue pushing in and out. 

“‘s our son,” Joel chokes, lowering the baby gently into her outstretched arms, bracing her hands with his, holding her steady until she’s sunk back against the pillows from exhaustion. “Our baby boy, Tessa, you did - you did a good job.”

Ellie’s cheek presses to hers, wet with tears, and she whimpers quietly as they peer down into the baby’s face together. “W-we took care of him for you, Mama,” she tells the woman, clinging so tight still. “Took care of y-you and - and little baby brother while you were s-sleepin’. I ran - all the way with him, Mama, I r-ran so hard ‘til my feets hurt and - and got the blisters, but I got him here like I promised, Mama!”

Tess says nothing back, enamored with the little human in her arms, this small little baby boy that she had carried inside her and agonized over the whole journey here. The kicks and hiccups inside her - realized, shaped into a little squishy loaf who already looks so much like his Daddy. A strangled sob escapes her throat as she holds him so close, rocks him in her weak arms and leans down enough to breathe in the soft, sweet baby smell of him. It’s so strange to be holding him; she doesn’t remember much about the birth, only knows the pain that had come with it. She doesn’t remember hearing his first cries, feeling his skin touch hers for the first time. She doesn’t remember any of this.

But at least, she tells herself - he’s here. He’s alive. 

She hasn’t failed.

“H-hey, little man,” she stutters, tracing the curve of one small cheek, stroking the delicate button nose. “Hey - ‘m your - ‘m your Mama.” She clutches him to her so tight, staring up at Joel with eyes so wide, feeling as if she’d only just seen sunlight for the first time. “H-how - w-where are we?”

“At Tommy’s,” Joel tells her gently, eyes soft as he reaches to tuck a strand of hair around her ear, presses in to kiss her. “We made it, sweetheart. We got here.”

"The - town? Are we in - "

"Yeah, yeah hon, we made it - we're here.” He cups the bowl of their son’s head in one palm, stroking over the dark tuft of hair as the baby burbles and smacks its little lips together. It’s still so surreal to him too, but Joel just slips himself over by her side, pulling Ellie into his arms and holding the girl as they watch Tess marvel over their infant son. 

“You gotta hold his head, and then hold his butt so he doesn't slip from under you!" Ellie instructs patiently, mimicking the motion with her small arms. “I held him and rocked him lots, Mama. I took care of him for you. Snuggled him when he cried, and read lots - lotsa stories to him to go to sleep.” Her small nose scrunches slightly. “I changed his nappy once, and he tinkled on my arm.”

It’s such an innocent thing to say, such a  _ sweet  _ and undamaged thing for a little girl to say, and it makes the ache in Tess’s chest burn ever brighter.

Tess struggles to push herself further upright on the bed. “H-How -” the baby’s snuggled down into the crook of her arm, rooting instinctively as he’s held against her, a familiar scent and presence that makes her breast ache and leak beneath her shirt.

“How - what's he been eating?”

“Well, we tried goat’s milk, at first, but his belly - it didn't seem to like that all too much, so then Maria - that's Tommy's new wife, Maria - they just had a baby about eight, nine months ago?” He presses his lips together, contemplating his next words - unwilling, almost, to reveal this to her, as if he knows already what it'll do to her psyche. “She's been helpin' out a lot, feedin' him and whatnot.”

Tess presses her lips together and nods, an ugly whirl of emotions about it; she's grateful that there was someone to give her baby what he needed when she couldn't, but then again - she couldn't give her baby what he needed to begin with. 

She struggles to unbutton her shirt, tucking the baby close to her, desperate to provide for her child. Here is their son, this little squashy being, against whom all the odds seemed to be against, and still here he is, living, breathing, healthy as he can be, and rooting for a nipple as if he owned her breasts already. 

The baby makes a burbling sound, and Tess feels an opening sensation in her chest when her son latches onto her breast. 

Joel reaches out to her arm, guiding her off the pillows slowly. “Don't move around too much, hon. You've been out for a couple days since we got here. You had a - an infection from the delivery. They had a medic in town, got you the antibiotics, but you gotta rest up for a while.” 

He presses his lips together at the way Tess’s eyes flicker, at the way she strokes over their son’s brow and smiles something like a sad little smile. “How...how much do you remember?”

Tess frowns, brows furrowing in a deep crease on her forehead as she shakes her head."Not much. Just...pain....and dreams.....and…” Her eyes flit to Joel anxiously, wide and unsure, and she licks her lips. “...Sarah..."

He blinks, a flickering wave of emotions that shutters off quickly. Instead of speaking at once, he busies himself with fussing over their son, tucking blankets around the baby and stroking a hand over his son’s dark hair. When he speaks, it’s a low murmur, eyes staring dazedly at the the baby’s face. “You were disoriented, hun. You - you were talking about Ellie.”

She bites her lip. There’s no reason to reopen the old, festering wounds. Not right now. Eventually, perhaps. For now, she can focus on their baby boy. She rearranges the baby in her arms, feeling the slight tremor in her muscles as the weight rests unfamiliar and solid there. She tucks the blanket under her son’s chin, staring enamored at the baby’s dark, fluttering lashes and soft, puckered lips. 

“Such a handsome little boy,” she whispers, almost cooing as she leans down to press a kiss on his downy head. “Look just like your Daddy, don’t you, little man.” She touches his little hand, strokes her finger over the tiny, tiny nails, feeling the way he grips her finger so tight; so strong for such a tiny fella. 

Ellie nuzzles in closer, hovering close with her small arms wrapped around one of Tess’s as they watch the baby. “We haven’t got a name yet for him, Mama,” she says quietly, her sweet, wide eyes peering at Tess. “We were - waiting for you to wake up so we could do it together.”

There’s a static crackle from somewhere on the bedside table, and Tess jumps slightly at the tinny voice that fills the room. “Joel, you there?”

The baby squirms in her arms, whimpering quietly, and Tess rocks him almost anxiously. Joel gives her an apologetic look, brushing a soft kiss to her hair before he lifts the walkie talkie to his mouth. “Yeah, ‘m here. Uh - say, can ya bring over somethin’ light to eat? Soup or - whatever y’all got. Tess is -” he looks at her, eyes warm and filled. He clears his throat quietly, but it does nothing to lessen the thickness in his chest. “She’s awake.”

“Well damn,” the voice crackles. “Always was a fighter, wasn’t she?”

Tess’s brow furrows in confusion, looking up at Joel. “‘s that Tommy?”

Joel nods. “Maybe another blanket if y’all got some to spare,” he says, glancing worriedly at the way Tess smothers a shiver under the thick woolen cover.

“I’m on it. Be right over.” 

He lowers the walkie talkie back on the table, leaning over Tess to press his hand gently over her forehead, tucking a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. “How’re you feelin’, sweetheart?” The weight of his words sits in his chest, the wideness of his eyes and furrow of his brow puts something twisting and warm in her stomach, and her pale, gaunt face makes a wrenching, roiling feeling in his gut. 

Tess smiles wanly. “About as good as I can feel, I guess.” She tucks the baby into the crook of her elbow, putting her other arm around Ellie and pressing a soft kiss to her daughter’s hair. “What should we name the little guy?” she whispers to Ellie, smiling at the wide-eyed sparkle of excitement in her green eyes. 

“Oh!” Ellie flaps one hand, reaching down to pet her little brother on the head eagerly. “Oh, I have - I have so many thoughts, Mama! I took lotsa notes, but I left it all at Uncle Tommy and Auntie Maria’s house.” She frowns briefly. “I remember some, though!”

She squishes Ellie gently, as much as she can, and Joel feels a smile tug at his mouth. “Yeah? What names’re you thinkin’?”

“I thought about how he might be named Journey,” Ellie tells her, with all the seriousness a little seven year old can muster. “‘Cause - ‘cause he survived - our journey here. Or! Or, I thought - maybe, because Mr. Johnson said that some people are named for other people or things, maybe he can be Little Daddy.” Ellie bounces on her haunches excitedly now. “‘Cause he looks like Daddy! Or maybe he can be called Joel Number 2 since Daddy’s name is Joel, or Small Joel, or - oh!! I remember you said one time, you remember? You said - you said you liked Wy-att, or Ray, or James!”

Tess can’t help the small, chuffing laugh at Ellie’s excitement, but with it comes the hollow sensation of sadness - she hadn’t been awake to talk about names with them. They’d talked about it before, on the journey, under campfire and starlight, but all the names jumble together in her head now, flickering like a raindrop in a puddle. 

She peers down into her son’s face. Touches his small button nose with her finger and smiles at the way he scrunches it in confusion. “You look like a Ray,” she whispers, and the baby’s eyebrows raise, his bleary eyes blinking open to look up at his Mama. Tess feels her heart swell with such a warmth it nearly hurts, and when she turns to smile up at Joel, her eyes are wet.

“What do you think?” she asks thickly. “You think Ray’s a good name for him?”

Joel’s eyes soften at her, his large hand reaching out to cup their chubby son’s head. “It’s perfect,” he utters, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss on her upturned lips. “Ray Lee Miller, how’s that sound?”

“Perfect,” she whispers, and she looks down at Ray Lee Miller, chubby and squashy and a little small, bundled up in the warmest swaddle they could find, as content as he can be. “Absolutely perfect.”

A knock on the door startles them slightly, and Tess curls around Ray protectively, relaxing when she recognizes the broad shoulders and shaggy, sandy hair. 

Tommy appears in the room, armed with a tray full of more food than Tess can remember seeing in the past few months, and a blanket tucked under his arm. “Tess,” he says, surprise and wary familiarity in his voice. He peers at them anxiously from the door, almost as if he doesn't quite know how to approach her. The grip of his fingers around the tray tighten and he shuffles uncomfortably into the small room when Joel waves him over.

It's understandable, Tess thinks. She knows he hasn't ever seen her like this; defenseless and vulnerable, the idea that she wasn't always the almighty, impenetrable hardass of a woman. They hadn’t had a lot of time together before - back when Tommy was still full of hopeful thoughts of a better future through anarchy, through the silver tongue of Marlene and the promises she’d weaved for them. There isn’t much love lost between them, but it’s nothing compared to the last time she remembers seeing Tommy and Joel in the same space. 

She’d never begrudged Tommy for his deluded sense of retribution; she was just too fucked up in the head already for it. She made the best of what she had, come hell or high water. It was just one of the things she had in common with Joel.

“Here, gimme that,” Joel says, breaking Tess from her reverie. “Don’t wanna put it ‘nywhere near the kids -” he reaches out for the tray as Tommy approaches the bed carefully.

"Well, god damn," he breathes, and leans hesitantly to brush a kiss to the crown of her hair. "How the hell ya doin, Tess."

She feels a wry smile pulling at her lips. “Like I pushed out a bowling ball, but I’ve had worse,” she says, and Tommy lets out a startled little laugh, shaking his head. 

“Still the same Tess I remember,” he sighs, looking between her and Joel furtively. Joel’s spooning out soup, blowing on it delicately and testing the barley and chicken soup against his lips before feeding it to Tess. “I caught up with my big brother while you were ah….restin’. Didn’t - didn’t know y’all ever - settled down.” He glanced at Ellie, sitting on her haunches and watching her baby brother snuffle in his sleep. 

He looked at his brother keenly. “Didn’t ever think you woulda wanted -”

“Things change,” Joel said curtly. His eyes say enough for Tommy to know not to push any further. “Things’re different now. Like I told you.”

Tommy nods his head slowly. He can give his brother that much. Brushing his palms off on his thighs, he pulls up a chair, settling into it carefully by the end of the bed, watching Joel as he hovers by Tess’s side, dabbing at her lips and murmuring to her quietly. He hasn’t seen his big brother in - what was it, seven, eight years? Long enough time to forget, and long enough to remember. “Last time I saw y’all, you were bleedin’ out all over the place. Tess couldn’t keep ya still long enough to patch you up.”

Joel grunts, scraping the spoon on the edge of the bowl and feeding Tess another bite. He frowns when she turns her head away, shaking her head at him and pressing her lips together, worry growing at the pale, greenish hue on her face. “Thought we’d close up shop,” he tells Tommy. He places the bowl onto the bedside table, reaching over the bed to scoop Ellie up into his arms and feeding her instead. “Had a baby on the way - couldn’t keep runnin’ around guns blazin’ when we had little ones to think about.”

“Wasn’t easy,” Tess says quietly, with a voice both reedy and thick. “Leaving it behind.” She shrugs a shoulder weakly. “Guess that’s just how it goes, right?” She holds the baby closer to her, a warm smile on her lips, but a closer look would’ve seen that the smile never reaches her eyes. 

Tommy looks away, and Joel does too. Perhaps it’s for the better that they didn’t look all that hard. 

“So,” Tommy begins instead, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I guess...y’all’re... _ together _ now?” He looks between them expectantly; at the little girl in her daddy’s lap eating soup and the squashy little baby dozing in Tess’s arms. 

Joel and Tess share a look. “We’re partners,” Tess says slowly, eyes sliding from Joel’s stubborn face to Tommy’s curious if bewildered one. “Like we’ve always been.”

“....riiiight.”  _ Partners _ . Tommy rubs his hands on his thighs again, smacking them slightly. “Well - guess I’d better get back to my  _ partner _ , too. Need to get that roof fixed before the next rain comes through.” He reaches down and squeezes Tess’s ankle gently, giving her a warm smile. “You’ll meet her later, for dinner maybe. She’s been helpin’ ya look after that little fella in your arms, y’know.” He beams at her proudly. “Got our own little boy at home now, and Maria’s been helpin’ ya feed the baby while you’ve been restin’.”

Tess smiles wanly, peering down into Ray’s face. “I’ll be sure to thank her when I see her.”

Tommy bobs his head, shifting from foot to foot for a moment, before the silence becomes too much, and he clears his throat slightly. “It’s real good to see ya, Tess. I’m - ‘m glad y’all made it here.” He gives her another smile, and to Joel he nods, and then he’s gone. 

With his brother gone, Joel shifts Ellie in his arms, turning to Tess worriedly. “You alright?” he asks. “You feel sick?” 

“‘m fine,” Tess mumbles, turning herself with trembling arms on the bed, a tight furrow in her brow as she lowers herself achingly onto her side, curled around Ray; back to Joel. “Just wanna sleep.”

He presses his lips together, looks down at Ellie somewhat helplessly. “Alright,” he utters. “‘m gonna take - Ellie outside a little bit, okay? Here -” he motions to the bedside table, at the walkie talkie propped up against the lamp. “You give me a holler if you need anythin’, alright? Anythin’ you need.” He gets to his feet, pressing a soft, lingering kiss in her hair.

“Love you,” he croaks, almost barely words. 

Tess curls around their baby as tight as she can, an odd crumpling sensation in her chest.


	20. to fester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hello darkness, my old friend

 

The first time she meets Maria the day she wakes, the woman comes bustling into the room with a squealing blonde baby slung on her hip, with chubby cheeks and rolls on his thighs. Tommy beams from beside her, arms laden with a tray of food for everyone. “Tess, this here’s Maria. She sorta runs things around here.”

Tess recognizes the guarded, wary look in Maria’s eyes, combined with an almost sheepish smile that twitches at the corner of her mouth. “Thanks,” she says, and Maria blinks. “For helping with Ray.”

“Of course,” Maria says, eyes softening as she looks from the bundle in Tess’s arms to the squirming baby on her own hip. “He’s a tough little guy.”

“Finally settled on a name, huh?” Tommy says eagerly, ushering Maria into a seat, sweeping his son into his arms once Joel had relieved him of the tray. “This little fella’s Lucas. Lucas James Miller.” He ruffles the baby’s blonde hair, grinning when Lucas squeals with delight. “‘s about eight months old now. Hefty fella.”

Joel makes a quiet little chortle; a lighthearted glow in his face, after months and weeks and days of exhaustion and worry. “Just like his old man, on that front. You were ten pounds when you came out; Mama swore up and down she wasn’t the same again.”

Tommy laughs, a deep, belly-sound similar to the one that comes rumbling from Joel’s throat on the rare occasion. Tess pushes herself upright further on the bed, nestling Ray into the crook of her arm and watching as Ellie rocks on her knees on the bed, giggling quietly in delight at it too. Her daughter’s eyes are fixed on the happy, chubby baby in Tommy’s arms, and Tess feels a warm tingle resonate into her fingers.

“Lucas!” Ellie squeaks, bouncing in delight when Tommy lowers the boy onto the bed by her. She reaches out and places her hand on the fluff of straw-colored hair on the baby’s head, giggling again when the baby flops forward onto his hands and knees, making flappy crawling motions towards her. “Mama, Mama - he can _crawl_ so good! Almost as fast as me!”

“I can promise you that he came out about as big as he could be too,” Maria drawls, sharing something like a commiserating look with Tess. “Lucas here didn't wanna listen to anyone either on when he was gonna make his appearance. Came out during the hottest night of the year when one of the turbines was busted and we didn't have any electricity.”

Tess smiles wanly, looking down at her son. A bitter pill sits at the edge of her tongue; _at least you remember it, at least you remember the day your son was born_. Instead she lets Joel take Ray with great reluctance, and picks at the lint of the blanket around her legs. “Ray certainly felt big,” she murmurs, and looks away to the window.

Maria presses her lips together, glancing at Joel and Tommy before speaking again. “I feel like Miller boys are just notorious for their size, aren’t they?” she says casually.

Joel chokes on a mouthful of homebrew, and Tommy flushes red, muttering _jeez, M’ria_ , and Maria grins. Tess feels her lip quiver into a smirk despite herself.

“Your wife is dangerous, little brother,” Joel says, eyeing Maria warily as he wipes an arm over his beard. “I feel like I oughta know better than to let you alone with Tess.”

Tess smiles, a frigid look in her eyes. “Not like you ever let me outta your sight anymore, right Texas?”

The air frosts between them somewhat, and Joel presses his lips together, busies himself with setting up their meal instead. He knows it’s hard, he really does; she’s not made to be coddled the way she is, not meant to be any other way but on her feet and handling her business. It’s difficult to reconcile that she won’t even take a moment to rest, to recover from barely surviving the birth of their son. It puts a lancing blaze of guilt in his chest - he’d been the one to do it to her. He’d been the one to get a child on her, and he’s more than willing to take responsibility - it’s what he’s doing now, but still, he wonders if there isn’t already a festering seed of resentment in her for him.

She bites her lip too, and glances away with a flickering look of guilt.

Tommy clears his throat, smacking his hands against his jeans and giving them a helpless smile. “Well - let’s dig in, shall we? Maurice made stew; he’s the one you saw up in the mill this morning, Joel. Skinning the deer and all.”

“Venison?” Joel asks, passing over a couple of bowls to his brother and Maria.

“Sure is,” Tommy nods. “And I even got ‘im to save the skins for ya - thought you’d like it for a new little blanket for lil’ ol’ Ray there.” He hands Maria and bowl and urges her down on a seat, watching carefully at the way Joel lowers Ray back into his mama’s arms and pulls Ellie into his lap once he’s settled into bed by Tess, nestles her there while he juggles a bowl in the other hand.

Joel holds up a spoonful of stew to her lips, but Tess jerks her head away slightly, eyes sidelong at him. “Jesus, Joel, ‘m not crippled,” she mutters, shifting Ray in her arm to grab the bowl from him. She doesn’t snatch it, but there’s enough strength in her grip for Joel to relinquish the bowl with some hesitation. She tries to hide the wince when she moves, bites down on her lip when her stitches tug and sting.

Joel frowns. “You okay -”

“Just peachy,” she bites out, lifting a trembling spoonful of stew to her lips. The weight of Ray in one arm has sparks of numbness running through her body, muscles shaking slightly to compensate for the strange weight of her son in her arms, but Tess squeezes him closer, shooting a look at Joel when he hovers still.

Maria shuffles closer to the bed, watching Lucas scoot himself across the bed to coo curiously at the bundle in Tess’s arms. “When you’re better, I can take you around the place,” she offers. “Get the hang of things in town, and if you’re up for the walk - up by the plant and the mill. Feel like you’d wanna stretch your legs some; I sure as hell did when I had Lucas.”

Tess looks down at the bowl of stew, feeling no hunger. “Yeah,” she mutters, looking away to where Joel is focused entirely on feeding Ellie spoonfuls of stew and coaxing the stubborn girl to try the carrots. “Yeah, that’d - I’d like that.” _Maybe when I can walk on my own again; when I can move without bleeding myself._

Ray squirms fussily in her arms then, sweet face crumpling into a moue as he lets out a snuffling cry. He kicks and flails, and Tess barely manages to place the bowl aside, stew spilling over the edges as she pulls him up hurriedly. She untucks the baby from his swaddle, hushing him gently as she unbuttons her shirt with one hand. She places Ray to her chest, brows furrowing at the sharp pinch of his rooting mouth on her nipple.

“I have some cream for that,” Maria offers. “Josiah made it with beeswax and some other oils he made with the herbs from the garden. Smells like lavender and mint, I think. It helps a ton.”

Tess bites her lip, stroking a finger down her son’s chubby cheek as he suckles hungrily against her. “Thanks,” she murmurs, looking back up at the crowd in her room; her little baby girl sitting in her daddy’s lap quietly babbling about dogs and horses Tess has yet to see, about her _plant_ \- how did that thing even survive this long? -, Joel’s estranged little brother and his family, and suddenly everything is too much.

She feels the room closing in on her, the world looming overhead with the setting of the sun outside her window, the cast of a great shadow that starts to creep onto the edges of her bed.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and she clutches Ray to her chest tight.

_I want to go home. I want to go home._

\-----

 

She entertains herself with little things. Drawings and sketches made with whittled down charcoal and faded No 2 pencils that Joel brings her, along with a strange abundance of coarse paper. They make paper at the mill, he tells her one day, spreading out an oatmeal-colored sheet in front of her. Paper and milled grain flour.

“I’ll take ya up there to see,” he promises her. “When you’re better.”

 _When you’re better_. It doesn’t feel like she’s going anywhere for a long while.

So she takes to her little habits again; the ones she saves for the gloomy stormy days when they’re all cooped up in the Boston apartment, wrapped up in blankets and Joel’s flannel. The habits that she taught Ellie, that she shared with her daughter. At first, it’s idle drawings of Ellie’s face, the squishy bundle of Ray and the serious ridge of his brow. It’s the room in her perspective - the cast of sunlight through the window thrown across the floor, the stifling largeness and smallness of the space around her all at once.

Each day, she fills books and sketchbooks scavenged for her with notes and lists. Lists of things she wants to do when she can move around again, things that she used to do that didn’t involve smuggling guns and illegal goods through underground tunnels.

She doesn’t think they’d need an underground black market here…..but one could hope.

Ellie tells her stories of her days, so much excitement in her words that she can hardly make the sentence run clear. She shows her Mama her new rain boots, a little too big for her yet, but good for the marshy weather.

“And - and Uncle Tommy made me this!” She thrusts a little wooden thing into Tess’s lap, sitting back on her haunches and bouncing eagerly and Tess picks up the object tentatively. “It’s a - a small pot, Mama! And we planted - planted a new little green for you!”

Tess cradles the rustic pot in her hands, feeling the weight of it in her palms, reaching a finger to stroke the velvety leaves of the pretty little bunch of wild flowers, and then looking into her daughter’s beaming face. “It’s so good, baby girl,” she whispers, reaching out to tuck a strand of wild hair behind Ellie’s ear. “How’s your plant, Ellie? Did it make it?”

Ellie’s eyes light up. “Oh, _yes_ ,” she gasps, bouncing enough for the bedsprings to squeak. “Mama - Mama, I planted it in our garden! Daddy and I - we went outside and we made a big, big space in the backyard for our garden! I helped Daddy clean away all the - the weeds and then thorny plants.” Her hands flail and flap with her excitement, and Tess laughingly traps them in her own hands when Ray squirms at the jostling.

“That’s great, baby girl,” she says, pressing a soft kiss to her daughter’s small palm.

“We’ll show you it when you’re better, Mama!” Ellie says, and Tess feels a festering wound inside her grow.

She smiles again, and this time it does not reach her eyes. “That’d be nice.”

Joel spends as much time outside as he does inside. For most of the day, he takes to wandering the town with his brother or Maria, coming home with stories for her and food. It’s endearing in its own way; Joel not wanting to leave her or Ray. But the longer he spends pressed against her and around her and hovering by her bedside, the more Tess wishes he’d just _leave her alone_.

“Go wander the streets or something,” she tells him sometimes, curled up around their son who has made himself perfectly comfortable at her breast. “Let me breathe.”

Joel always does - he’s known her too long not to know the hard look in her eyes, the thin press of her lips together. The walkie talkie sits perched by the bedside lamp, and Tess tries her damndest to never need to call him back, but her strength of will usually loses out to her aching bladder.

It’s strange. To go from being the whispered terror of the Boston black market, to not even being able to walk to the bathroom by herself anymore.

When she puts the charcoal to paper again, the lines are as dark and festering as the growing blackness in her chest.

 

\-------

  


It takes her almost seven days to get back on her feet. The first few days were a whirlwind of emotions; the overwhelming love she had for her newborn son and a buzzing restlessness she felt in her bones mixing like oil and water. She gets to her feet with Joel braced against her, bearing most of her weight as she puts one aching foot in front of the other, stumbling far enough to the bedroom window to look out into the yard; to see Ellie down on the grass petting a dog and playing in the sunlight.

All of her lower body hurts - she has stitches, she knows. She can feel them with every move of her hips.

“‘s just until they heal over,” Joel assures her, quiet as ever, hovering by her bedside like he has since they’d gotten here. He tries to feed her still, even if Tess can eat for herself, but there’s only so much of his smothering she can take.

She hasn’t been outside since they got here; hasn’t seen anyone but Joel and Ellie and Tommy and Maria. Hasn’t seen anyone from town, and Tess feels an ugly twisting sense of hate for the fact that the first time they’d seen her was unconscious and bleeding in Joel’s arms. That they’ve only ever seen her as someone weak and needing constant care and attention.

Joel does everything for her, and every day it puts a fissuring crack on Tess’s tolerance for coddling.

It’s always the crying that wakes her.

The squirming, whining cry from somewhere in the room, in and out of her waking mind as she opens her eyes and squints into the darkness. Beside her, she feels Ellie’s small arms wrapped around her middle, always squeezing just a little too hard to ignore, her poky limbs pressed against her. She hears Joel’s snoring from across the bed, feels the solid weight of his body sunk into the mattress, feels the stifling presence of too many bodies in one place. She waits to see if his snoring will stop - if he’ll wake like a bullet in the dark and she’ll see his hulking shadow looming over the bassinet, hear the quiet, soothing rumbles of sweet nothings as he sweeps their son into his arms.

She waits, and waits.

Ray’s cries are becoming screeches.

With trembling arms, she pushes the blankets back, disentangling herself from Ellie’s grip. She pushes herself up, swings her legs off the side of the bed and struggles to her feet. The world sways with her a moment, roiling in and out of her vision as she swallows; tastes the coppery tinge in the back of her tongue. She feels sweat prickling on her skin, shivers in the chill, wincing when Ray lets out a howling wail.

“Okay, little man,” she mumbles through the cotton sensation in her mouth. “Mama’s coming.”

She makes her way over to the bassinet tucked under the window, feels the frigid, creaking wood of the floor beneath her bare feet as if they’re falling away. She can see Ray squirming in his bundle, kicking his legs and flailing his arms, and Tess reaches out a trembling hand to grip the side of the bassinet tight, takes a shuddering breath to calm herself.

She wipes the beading sweat off her forehead on her sleeve. “C’mere, baby.” She bends over, flinching hard at the way her stitches pinch, feels a new layer of sticky red seeping into the layers of cloth shoved in her underwear. Ray has tears running down his little face, a flush in his cheeks from squalling so hard, and Tess wills herself to pull him into her arms, struggles with the weight of him for a moment as the blackness starts to creep into the periphery of her vision.

There’s a ringing in her ears now; Ray’s snuffling whimpers become a murky underwater echo. She turns to the bed, pushing one foot in front of the other, shuffling across the wood like stones bound to her feet. It’s not a distance, two feet, a handful of steps, but Tess feels the world tilting.

She feels the world go dark.


	21. ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you remember who you are?”

_ She clutches Ray to her body, hugging the baby with strengthless arms that feel like lead. She tries to blink the creeping darkness away, to steady herself with a deep, slow breath; but breathing that hard only makes the room spin faster. There's a giddy roil in her chest, and Tess stumbles back to the bed, barely manages to seat herself on the edge of it before she feels herself sliding off the side. _

_ Ray's cries fizz away like dying static, and then it all goes dark. _

 ----

 

That’s what she remembers. Tess is so sure she remembers.

She wakes to the murky sound of crying, again. Something in between the blubbering cries of distress she recognizes as her son’s, and the wail of her daughter’s pleading calls of  _ Mama! Mama, wake up!  _ Something is clinging to her, held within a vice slowly squeezing around her shoulders, crushing her, stifling her, consuming the light around her eyes.

She reaches weakly up, fingers splayed and searching for her children.

Something large and warm and rough takes her hand, squeezes almost to hurt. “Don’t try to move too much,” a low voice tells her; she hears it through cotton and ringing. “Tessa - Tess -”

The world tilts slowly, shifting around her as she feels her body being lifted upright in fractions, the careful way that someone -- Joel? It has to be -- braces her. The room comes into full view around her - the bed, where Ellie is knelt sniffling and choking on her sobs; the squirming, kicking bundle of Ray who is squalling for all he’s worth still. 

Joel materializes at her side then, and Tess jolts hard, shuddering slightly as she blinks away the dancing stars. “Wh-at happened?”

She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth and tastes copper. Did she bite her tongue?

“You passed out,” Joel says, his face a grim mask. “You - fell. I heard it, and I woke up.” He presses his lips together tight, a thin white line and a gleam in his eyes she doesn’t quite notice yet; the wide dark of his pupils and the furrow of his brows. “You shoulda woken me up, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t care for the reproachful tone in his voice; real or imaginary.  _ Don’t patronise me _ . She wishes she could say it, but somehow the words cling like tar to her lungs.

He lifts her into his arms, holds her cradled against him like a delicate, wilting flower, but Tess can’t find the strength to fight him on it. He lays her back down on the bed, and Ellie comes crawling to her, whimpering low and keening as she throws her skinny arms around Tess and clings to her tight.

The weight of her is gone in an instant. Joel grasps Ellie’s arm gently, pulling her away with quiet murmurs. “Don’t do that to Mama yet, baby. Let ‘er breathe.”

Ellie lets out a pathetic sniffle, but relents. 

Tess sags into the pillows, her body trembling and damp with cold sweat that builds over her skin and smothers her. Everything hurts; she can feel the throb of her stitches aching, the stick and bite of her scabs drying over tight on her skin, the weakness in her bones. She looks at the bed beside her, frowns at the way Ray is sobbing himself into coughing fits, despite Joel’s desperate efforts of calming the boy.

Inch by inch, she struggles to lift her arms. It feels like her bones are made of steel, bolted down and too heavy to hold out, but she manages to reach trembling hands up. “G-imme. Give -”

He reaches around her, fluffs the pillows up to hold her upright. Even the jostling from that alone makes her whole body ache, but she only has eyes for Ray. Joel lowers Ray into her arms, tucking the baby anxiously into her grip and bracing her arms with his. The baby squirms and kicks, whimpering reproachfully at them until he feels the familiar touch of his mother’s skin to his cheek. Ray mouths her chest hungrily, roots for her nipple and latches on greedily, squirming down into her arms to suckle. The baby’s shuddering, sniffling breaths in between fills her with shame - she couldn’t even get up to feed her child without nearly dropping him on his head.

She reaches to touch his cheek, but when his knitted cap falls away Tess recoils with a startled gasp. 

There is a small red patch on his forehead. The beginnings of a bruise, and Tess feels her entire body burn with guilt.

“Did I -?” She chokes on the words; can hardly stand to think them, let alone say them. She stares up at Joel, eyes wide and searching and frightened - “oh shit -”

A shuttered look passes across Joel’s face, and the reluctance that he has to reply says enough. “You must’ve dropped him when you passed out,” he says, at length, with no inflection in his voice. “He was on the floor beside you when I woke up.”

Ellie reaches out one small hand to lay over her brother’s head, small fingers stroking over the bruise like a whisper. “It’s okay, lil’ brother,” she says, swirling her fingers around in his dark hair. “It’s just a small owie.” With her father’s permission, Ellie leans down to give Ray a soft kiss on his head.

The sweetness of it all only puts a bitter, roiling taste in Tess’s mouth.

Tess’s face smooths over into a frighteningly blank mask. “I’m very tired,” she says faintly. “I’d like to go to bed.”

She curls around Ray, curls onto her side away from them, curls deep into the bleakness of her mind that engulfs her. She doesn’t want to hear him calling her name, doesn’t want to feel the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t even want to hear Ellie calling for her; she doesn’t deserve to be called Mama anymore. Some mother she’s been. It’s easier than she would’ve thought to slip away into her headspace - after a while, she hardly even feels Ray suckling, hardly hears anything but the echoing emptiness in her mind. 

_ I’m very tired _ . 

Yes. 

_ I’d like to go to bed.  _

Please.

_ I’d like to go home.  _

More than anything.

 

\-------

 

She hasn’t said a word to him in days. 

He can hardly get her to even acknowledge him when he speaks now. The distant, vacant look that had taken root in her eyes had stayed since the night she’d collapsed, and it’s as if the bleakness has consumed her entirely. When the medic had come, it barely registered to her. Everything the man was saying was simply replied with the same, dead utterance.

“I’m very tired.”

Joel tries to understand it - God help him -, he really is. He’s tried to be as accommodating and gentle as he can manage; he’s never been good with talking about these kinds of things, with handling emotions. Memories of another life, of Sarah and marrying too young to know better come to him in flashes of thought. He hadn’t been good at it then, so why is he so surprised that he’s horrible at it now? He’s not  _ mad  _ at her for collapsing - surely she understands that? He’s not mad at her for what happened to Ray.

“It was an accident, sweetheart. He’s gonna be fine,” he says, has been saying for the past few days. All to silence. “That’s all that was. I shoulda woken up to get him, and I didn’t. You shouldna had to get him.”

Still, all he sees is the shifting muscles in her back, and all he hears is the empty sound of her sighs.

The medic gives her new stitches in place of the ones she’s torn, and Tess only seems to retreat further into herself for it. “Try not to move around too much,” the medic tells her gently. “Your blood pressure is a little lower than I’d like at the moment; maybe try not to overexert yourself.”

“I didn’t think holding my own son would’ve overexerted me,” Tess utters coldly, her back turned to them. She doesn’t catch the look that Joel shares with the medic; the way he presses his lips together and thanks the man quietly. 

Joel walks the man out, clasping his hand in a firm and grateful shake. “Thanks for comin’ ‘round, Pete. I really do appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” Pete says. “It’s what I’m here for.” As he makes his way down off the porch and back onto the street, Joel catches sight of Maria and Tommy coming down the way. Joel bites back a sigh, bracing himself against the doorway as his brother pushes open the yard gate for his wife. 

The concern in Maria’s eyes is clear from the start of the driveway all the way down to the porch. “Hey, we heard the call in for Pete.” She glances around him briefly through the doorway, but Joel knows that Ellie is upstairs with Tess. She looks back at him with a flickering look in her eyes, brows furrowed on her forehead. “Everything okay?”

Joel takes a slow breath. “She passed out. Collapsed on the floor,” he mumbles, slipping his hands into his pockets. “She was tryin’ to get Ray. He was cryin’. I didn’t hear him.” He shrugs his shoulders, and the helpless move feels like a boulder rolling across his back. “I shoulda woken up. I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Maria gasps, reaching to lay a comforting hand on his arm. “Oh, Joel. Is she okay? Is Ray okay?”

He nods numbly. “Pete checked ‘em out. Ray’s got a lil’ - a lil’ bump on his head, but he’s fine.”

Tommy waits for the rest of that sentence, and it never comes. “What about Tess?” he asks eventually.

At length, Joel looks at his boots. Maria’s. Tommy’s. When he looks up into his brother’s face, Tommy sees the shimmer of the same kind of pain from a lifetime ago. Joel looks like he’s aged a decade; the hollow of his cheeks clear in the bright of day, the heavy, dark sag of circles under his eyes. The sheer weight of his shoulders sagged low and slouching. Tommy remembers when Joel was mourning Sarah - he didn’t even have time to mourn much then. 

It’s almost as if he’s already mourning Tess.

“She ain’t said a word to me.”

The look that passes between Tommy and Maria goes unnoticed by Joel, and the blonde man reaches to clap his brother gently on the back. “C’mon,” Tommy urges him, offering Joel a small smile. “Let’s - take a walk, me and you. Let’s uh - let’s let the girls catch up some.” He gives Joel a friendly jostle on the shoulder. “Need some mano-y-mano time with my big brother.”

Joel shakes his head, making to pull away from Tommy. “I - I can’t. I can’t leave her like this -”

“You’re not leaving her, Joel,” Maria tells him gently, squeezing his arm. “She needs some space to breathe.” She looks up at him knowingly; firmly, almost, as he sags into a sigh. “You both do.” She pats his arm again, nudging him back towards Tommy. “Go on, now. Tommy can show you the new things Josiah made for the mill.”

Wearily, Joel scrubs a hand over his face, heaving another sigh. “Maybe you’ll have better luck than I have,” he mumbles. He doesn’t even have the strength to be bitter about - his little brother and sister-in-law mending the patches of his relationship. 

Maria shoos them off, standing by the open door and watching them trudge down the driveway, as Joel did with Pete. She watches Tommy try to rib his brother gently about something; instigates a friendly nudge, but all Joel seems to be capable of doing is shrugging. She presses her lips together and steps into the house, makes her way upstairs to where she can hear a muffled little voice.

She knocks on the bedroom door lightly, pushes it open when she hears the squeaky voice call back to her. “Come in!”

She smiles warmly at the little girl. “Hey, sweetie. Whatcha doin’?”

Ellie sits back on her thighs, carefully placing the book beside her. She gives Maria a shy little smile, scooting up on the bed. “Hi, Aunt Maria,” she says quietly, and Maria feels herself smiling wider at the fact that Ellie has been so conscientious about calling her that. “I was - readin’ to Mama and Ray stories from my storybook.” She lays a small hand over the cover of it, peering back up at Maria. “Did you bring Lucas with you?”

Maria’s eyes flicker to the woman curled up on her side in the bed; her back to the door and to Ellie even - the small bundle that snuffles quietly in his little crib. “No, sweetie. He’s at the house with Amelia. I’m actually here to see you and your Mama, sweetie.” She moves carefully to the bed, treading lightly over the hardwood to keep from creaking the baby awake. She perches herself on the edge of the bed, laying a hand on the soft bedspread as she watches the silhouette of Tess under the covers.

She waits to see if Tess will move at all; to turn over or even jerk her head up to look at her. She doesn’t know if she’s surprised at all when Tess hardly even seems to breathe. A fissuring spark of pain roils in her gut - she remembers a time like this. Before Lucas, when her bedsheets were also lined with nothing more than blood and grief. How even after so much trying, even after the miracle that Lucas had been, Maria remembers curling up the same and hating herself for every sniffle, hiccup, and cry that came from her baby boy.

She can’t see Tess’s face, but she has a feeling she’d know the look.

“Tess,” she begins delicately, reaching out to lay a hand on the curve of Tess’s leg over the covers. “We’re gonna get you cleaned up, and we’re gonna go outside for some fresh air, okay?” 

Ellie leans against Maria’s back anxiously, shaking her head. “Oh, but - but Daddy says that Mama needs rest!” she insists, rocking slightly against the bedsprings as she glances from her mother’s prone form to Maria’s face. “She - she over-asser-ted herself and - and she fell down.” Her green eyes go wide at the memory, brimming slightly with tears. 

“That’s over _ exerted _ , honey, and yes. Your mommy had an accident,” Maria says gently, getting off the bed. “So now I’m gonna take her outside where she can sit down and get sunshine and use her muscles again. If she moves around and gets exercise, she gets stronger, doesn’t she?”

Ellie’s little face crinkles with indecision, nearly wringing her hands. “Well - well Mama can’t wrestle anymore so I guess - I guess that’s why maybe she’s not feeling so good anymore. ‘Cause - ‘cause before - in Boston, Mama even beat up  _ Ace _ !” Maybe her Aunt Maria is right; Mama’s been so unhappy since they left Boston, since she had to stop wrestling with Daddy when Ray climbed into her belly. And they didn’t have a lot of food for a long time, too….

Maria nods seriously. “I think we should help Mama get better, don’t you?”

The covers rustle quietly, and Maria watches apprehensively as Tess emerges from the bundle, glaring wearily. “I’m in the damn room, y’know.”

“Well,” Maria huffs, tugging the blankets off her slightly. “If you’d maybe act like you were something more than a vegetable, I’d treat you like one.”

Ellie lets out a scandalized gasp, clutching her cheeks in disbelief.

Tess’s eyes gleam at Maria, narrowed and watery as she tucks Ray protectively into the crook of her arm. “I’m tired of people telling me what I can and can’t do,” she snaps bitterly, pushing her hair out of her face. “Last time I checked, I still have a working brain.”

“So use it,” Maria says bluntly. “All those stories Tommy told me about you bein’ hot shit in Boston - where’s that Tess? You leave her behind in Boston too?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Tess grits. Her hand is fisted tight into the covers; her arms trembling from the weight of holding herself up to glower at Maria. She can feel the sweat building on her body again, but the fire growing inside her puts a new light in her eyes. “Just because you’ve got the dream life of a dinky little town to raise a dinky little family in the middle of a goddamn zombie apocalypse. You didn’t have to bleed like this for your kid.”

Maria’s spine steels over, and her gaze hardens. “You don’t have a clue what I had to go through to have Lucas. You’re too caught up in your own pity party that you haven’t looked around to see who else you’ve been hurting.” She glances sharply at Ellie and then back to Tess.

“I never asked for him to do any of this!” Tess snarls, croaking and strained. She doesn’t remember the last time she’s spoken, let alone raised her voice. “I never wanted this!”

“Did you ever watch the Lion King when you were little?” Maria asks her suddenly.

Tess stares at her incredulously. “Yeah? Why the fuck -”

“Remember who you are.”

“Fuck you -”

Maria shrugs. “Do you remember who you are?” she asks. “Before you came here? Before you had Ray?”

Tess almost seems to shrivel into herself protectively, the same way a snake coils itself for defense. “All too clearly,” she murmurs bitterly.

“Maybe because you’re still the same person,” Maria tells her patiently. “Whatever you left behind in Boston - that’s the past. Hurts like hell, but it’s gone and done away with. But you -” she looks at Tess straight in the face, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You’re still here. Same deck, different hand.”

Tess scoffs, shaking her head. “You’ve been spending too much time around Tommy.”

“As I should,” Maria replies, moving towards Tess. “He’s my husband.” She eases the blankets off Tess’s shoulders, urging Ellie away to get her Mama’s slippers. She slips an arm around Tess’s back and eases the woman upright gently, coaxing her through slow and steady breaths as they sit together side-by-side, staring at the dark oak crib.

Tess heaves a slow, deep breath, her body trembling from effort as Ellie comes stumbling back into the room with her house slippers. Hardwood makes it easier for new mothers to catch a chill, apparently. Her eyes go unseeing to the crib again, raw and longing, and at the same time frightened and shameful. 

“He deserves better than this,” she mumbles, watching Maria bend a knee to help her feet into the slippers. 

Maria straightens to her feet, turning to Tess with a mild huff. “Well,” she says thoughtfully, reaching for the woman’s hands. “All of us do. But that’s just the way it goes.” She squeezes Tess’s hands in hers, arching a brow. “Ready?”

She steps back with a heave, and Tess comes staggering upright against her. She braces Tess’s arm over her shoulder, offering her torso as leverage as Tess sways on her feet briefly, thin brows pulled tight for a long moment. “Deep breaths,” she coaches, easing them into the first shuffling step forward. “We’re gonna get outside, and we’re gonna sit on the porch and watch the world go by like old ladies under blankets, okay?”

Ellie trots after them like a loyal, anxious puppy, milling around the women but giving them a wide enough berth to maneuver across the room. Her eyes go frequently to the quiet bundle of her brother - she doesn’t think they’ve ever left Ray alone before. Are they supposed to leave him alone?

As if reading her mind, Maria glances back at her over Tess’s shoulder. “Sweetie, why don’t you sit down in bed and read your storybook?” she suggests kindly. “You can keep Ray company, and maybe take a nap after. You might be tired from reading so many stories.”

Ellie chews her lip, peering up at Tess’s pale face and to the crib. “I - I can stay and watch Ray for you, Mama. I’ll be so good and take care of him,” she promises the woman; swears it. 

“Just give us a holler if he wakes up, okay?” Maria tells her, and Tess offers no words to either of them as they make their way slowly out of the bedroom. When they’re far enough out of earshot, Maria looks at Tess. “How do your stitches feel?”

Tess curls her lip into a scowl, glaring sidelong at her. “What’s it matter to you?”

“Well,” Maria says lightly, keeping her eyes steadily ahead. “Because eight months ago, I went through the same thing you’re going through now.” The admission stops Tess mid-step, and Maria glances to her with a soft, meaningful look. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever felt like a useless sack of shit?” The smile Maria gives her is dark and bitter. “I lost three before I had Lucas.”

Tess presses her lips together, shifting on the balls of her feet. “Jesus, Maria - I didn’t mean to -”

Maria lifts a shoulder to shrug at her, a sad little smile on her lips. “I know you didn’t. But that’s not what this is about,” she murmurs lowly, eyes glazed over and hard; reliving a memory of something Tess doesn’t think she wants to feel. “I know it’s hard. Like you wanna crawl outta your skin, or put the covers over your head and never wake up. It’s normal to feel that way. ”

“I  _ dropped  _ my son.” The anguish in Tess’s voice makes Maria falter, but the blonde stiffens her lip and nods grimly. 

“Accidents happen,” Maria tells her. “People make mistakes. You wouldn’t be the first mother who’s made mistakes.” She glances at Tess, squeezing the woman’s arm gently. “But you’re not alone in this. We’re here to help, if you’ll let us.”

They pause at the top of the stairs, staring down at the landing warily. Maria tightens her grip on Tess, and shoots the pale woman a reassuring smile.

“One step at a time.”


End file.
